In a Mirror, Darkly
by Valerie Vancollie
Summary: There was a certain irony to the situation, that the brother who was a federal agent had been abducted to be used as leverage against the brother who was an applied mathematics professor at a highly respected college.' Don Whump, Charlie Angst!
1. Part I: Chapter 1

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Characters_: Charlie, Don

_Rating_: 15

_Summary_: _There was a certain irony to the situation, that the brother who was a federal agent had been abducted to be used as leverage against the brother who was an applied mathematics professor at a highly respected college._ Don Whump, Charlie Angst!

_Spoilers_: _Uncertainty Principle_, _Vector_, _Man Hunt_, _Dark Matter_, _Finders Keepers_, _Breaking Point_, _Black Swan_, _When Worlds Collide_, _The Decoy Effect_, _The Fifth Man_, _Greatest Hits_, _Angels and Devils_

_Note_: The first three chapters of this story were written for the Charlie round at _Numb3rs Write-Off_. I was a member of Team Angst and chose the word prompt _decision_.

**

* * *

**

_**Part I: Charlie: **NSA_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 1:**_

**Thursday, 11:27  
Dr. Charles Eppes' Office, CalSci**

Charlie was just compiling the last of his final grades for his Intro to Calculus class when there was a knock on his door.

"Come in," Charlie called out, looking up and wondering who it could be.

All of the students had gone home for summer already, Larry had gone to visit Megan and his fiance had gone to India to visit her parents. Undoubtedly to start planning the wedding, a thought that still sent a mixture of delight and fear coursing through him. Which left only Millie, his brother and the members of his brother's team and they always just knocked and entered, they didn't wait to be given permission, so he was at a loss as to who his visitor might be.

"Dr. Eppes," a tall blond man said as he entered the room, his suit all but screaming federal agent even if there hadn't been a gun at his belt.

"Agent Banner," Charlie greeted as he got to his feet.

Despite not having seen the man for years, he recognized him instantly as Banner hadn't changed much. There seemed to be a few more wrinkles on his face and some more gray streaks in his hair, but otherwise he looked exactly the way he had when Charlie had first met him in DC years ago. The memories brought a half smile to his face. While they had started off on the wrong foot, the agent scoffing at bringing in a mathematics professor to consult, let alone one so very young, he'd quickly changed his mind. By the end of that first consulting gig, Banner had already been more than willing to listen to what Charlie had to say. For the subsequent two cases he'd consulted on, Banner had been all ears, eager to learn what other ways math could be applied to real world scenarios.

On some level, Charlie wished he knew exactly what it was about the work he'd done that had so thoroughly converted the man as he'd love to be able to use it on other people. Alas, he'd been unable to figure it out, in large part due to the fact that whenever he consulted for the NSA, he never got all of the data. Unlike the FBI, the NSA kept him in the dark as regards to the bigger picture or the overall case. He was sure that he'd be able to do a better and more efficient job for them if he had all of the facts, but that was simply not how the Agency worked and he knew better than to try and push them on the matter.

"How are you?" Charlie inquired. "And did you get transferred?"

"Not exactly," Agent Jeremy Banner replied, approaching the desk. "But I'm in charge of a case that's moved here, so I've followed it across the country."

"I assume this case is what brings you to my office?"

"Yes, though I must admit, your office is a lot nicer than I imagined it would be. And a lot tidier."

"That's because I've only just moved into it," Charlie admitted, knowing the man had already seen how messy his workspace could get when he was in the middle of a problem.

"Still, maybe I chose the wrong profession."

"It's never too late to change."

"Oh, for me I definitely think it is," Banner laughed. "I'm far too set in my ways to alter them now."

"You'd be surprised," Charlie argued. "Some of my students are a lot older than you. Even my father has started taking classes here, though in the Engineering department."

"What? Not in math?"

"No."

"Can't win them all," Banner stated before his face turned serious. "So, I guess the first question is, do you have time to consult for the NSA?"

"It would depend on the scope of the project," Charlie answered truthfully.

Although he'd struggled recently to meet all of the demands made on his time, he didn't want to say no immediately. Even beyond Agent Banner's interest in the math, the NSA generally provided him with very interesting problems and his work for them had often triggered lines of thought that he'd gone back to later on and developed further on his own and even published on. With classes over and both Amita and Larry gone, he also had a lot more free time on his hands than normal just now.

"Well, it's something you can work on here if you keep the office secure," Banner began, glancing about. "There's no need to confine you to an NSA office as we've sometimes done in the past."

"That's good, 'cause then I'd have to decline as I can't afford to do that at present."

"Good, now what I'm about to tell you is top secret, classified."

"I am well aware of the security issues consulting for you involves, Jeremy," Charlie replied a little wearily.

It was always the same song and dance, though he supposed it was necessary.

"I just want there to be no misunderstanding," Banner explained, watching him closely. "You are to tell no one any specifics of what you are working on. In fact, you are not to tell anyone that you are currently consulting for the NSA, not even Agent Eppes or anyone else at the FBI, do you understand?"

Charlie sighed, thankful he wasn't currently working on a case for Don like he had been the last time the NSA had come asking for his help. "Yes, I understand."

"Good, now, if you accept this, I shall be your sole point of contact for this consultation, just to make it easier to ensure security. If anyone else from the NSA comes by, you are not to tell them anything either."

"What? Why?" Charlie demanded, slightly alarmed. "Is something wrong?"

"We're not sure," Banner started slowly, suddenly looking weary. "Some information has surfaced that makes us worry that there might be a leak, either in the NSA or with one of the organizations working closely with us and we want to make sure that what we are currently working on remains a secret while another team tracks down the source of the leak."

"Oh, I see."

"Therefore it is vitally important that we have a consultant working on this which we trust implicitly not to be involved."

"I find it hard to see how I fit in that category after all that's happened," Charlie stated darkly, still angry at what had happened regarding Sanjrani and his work.

"The Pakistani issue aside, you have a spotless record and you weren't consulting for the Agency at the time of some of the leaks, which puts you in the clear," Banner explained before an ironic smile crossed his lips. "Besides, Assistant Director Thompkins still speaks quite highly of you."

Charlie relaxed a bit at that. It was something he'd wondered about since the whole security issue fiasco; what Bob thought of it all. He hadn't heard from the man and he hadn't quite worked up the nerve to call him and see where they stood. He'd silently hoped that the Assistant Director had had a hand in him regaining his clearance despite McGowan's clear dislike of everything he uncovered in his investigation. Therefore, it was very good to get confirmation of the fact that he was still in the man's good graces.

"So, what is it you need me to do for you this time?" Charlie inquired, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Well, see, we've managed to get our hands on a computer that contains information vital to national security," Banner began, placing his briefcase on the desk, opening it and extracting several thick folders. "The problem is that all of the information on it is not only encrypted, but also protected by a highly complex security system."

"I assume that this computer doesn't belong to the NSA?" Charlie asked and then looked up from the first folder when his question was met with silence. Banner's face was grave and gave nothing away. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry, I was merely asking as the origins of the computer might provide some insight into the type of security measures used."

"That information is classified and need to know."

"Well, I do, need to know that is."

"Unfortunately, my superiors do not agree with that assessment."

"Look, Jeremy, I can't help you if you're going to bind my hands," Charlie argued, having forgotten how damned frustrating it was not to simply be given all of the relevant information or to easily be able to obtain it.

"I'll see what I can do, but in the meantime you'll have to make do with what they have authorized you to see."

"Okay, so, what else can you tell me?"

"The information the computer contains may help us uncover the identity of the mole, or moles, currently leaking information on the Agency and its projects."

"So, pretty urgent then."

"That's one way of putting it," Banner agreed wryly. "The problem is compounded by the fact that our internal people don't seem to be making much headway on their own. Do you think you'll be able to help?"

"Hmm," Charlie responded, almost completely absorbed in the figures and algorithms listed in the files.

Quickly, he flipped through them, getting a feel for the complexity of the math involved and how difficult it might be to come up with a way around it. Oh, that was interesting, he didn't think he'd ever seen that expression utilized in quite that manner before. It was unorthodox, but actually made a lot of sense if one chose to overlook the generally accepted usage for it. It was quite beautiful how it had been applied to the problem at hand, lending an elegant twist to the situation while not sacrificing any strength in the process.

The numbers started racing through his mind even before he'd fully decided to accept the project. Charlie opened the second folder and began flicking through it as an idea began to form in the back of his mind. It was crude and unlikely to work, but it was a good starting place considering what he'd seen so far and had the potential to develop into something, though it would take a lot of work. The math involved was of the highest level and he almost wished he could meet the person who had devised it as he was sure there was a lot that they could learn from each other.

There, that bit right there, which prevented anyone from simply hacking into the outer layer of the security features and allowing someone to upload a virus or other corrupting factor into the system to try and overwhelm it was another instance of beautifully structured brilliance.

This could be quite the challenge and Charlie knew he'd accept the offer. There was no way he could resist delving further into this and seeing what else this mathematician had come up with. It was glaringly obvious that the person responsible for this work was a mathematician and not some ordinary programmer with an advanced knowledge of mathematics; the expressions were far too elegant for that. There was clear understanding of the principles behind the concepts used, to the extent that the creator was able to use some of them in ways other than the immediately obvious.

"Dr. Eppes? Charles?" Banner questioned, trying to recapture the younger man's attention.

"Huh? What?"

"I assume that you'll do this consultation for us?"

"Yes, yes," Charlie said dismissively as he turned his attention back to the numbers, his mind already leaping ahead.

Oh, he hadn't realized you could use a Blowfish Cipher Algorithm with the No Cloning Theorem like that.

**

* * *

**

**Friday, 18:36  
Dr. Charles Eppes' Office, CalSci**

Then, substituting theta for the unidentified variable would allow him to get past the first part of the security algorithm, but then it would-

Charlie frowned at the result that particular tactic led to. Spinning around, he scrambled about for the notes about that aspect of the programming. Where had he put them? They weren't where he thought he'd left them and he was forced to shift other piles of paper about on his desk before remembering that he'd been sitting on the couch the last time he'd flipped through the file in question.

A quick search of the papers scattered about the couch led to the successful retrieval of the file he needed. Absently humming a bar of his favorite music under his breath, Charlie scanned the notes, looking for the specific equation he was looking for. There it was, huh, he'd been right, that line of thought wouldn't work, not with the way the unknown mathematician had used the E91 protocol.

A frisson of frustration shot through Charlie at being thwarted yet again. He'd been working almost nonstop on the problem, but wasn't much further than he had been at the start. It was annoying even though some part of him reveled at the challenge the problem presented. It wasn't often that he got to go head to head with another mathematician of this caliber and he savored the experience.

Part of the reason he was having so many difficulties lay in the fact that he couldn't quite seem to get a handle on his opponent. Charlie was beginning to suspect that this whole system was not just the work of one person, but of two, or more, mathematicians. He could definitely see that the work of the person he admired the most was interwoven throughout all of the parts he currently had access too, as it was quite distinctive and unique, but there were other bits that simply didn't seem to fit. Well, at least not stylistically. The different parts all worked together seamlessly to perform the function for which they'd been designed, otherwise he would probably never have been asked to crack the system, but the styles were so very different.

Where one was elegant and beautiful to the point of almost being a work of art, the other, or others, were much more bland. The math was still firm, but much more predictable and thus easier to work with or to work around. Not that any of the theorems utilized allowed for much room to maneuver. The other people involved were clearly competent mathematicians or programmers in their own right.

The other thing that Charlie had noticed was that there seemed to be something else embedded into the secondary layer of the security system. He couldn't quite make out what just yet as he hadn't managed to peel the first layers back entirely, but he could all but see glimpses of it, as it were, in the effects it had on the expressions and algorithms which had been build up around it. It seemed familiar on some level, but he couldn't fathom where or why he would have run across that before. It bothered him for a reason he couldn't quite explain and caused him to frown.

With a sudden start, he realized that he'd been looking at the end of the first algorithm incorrectly. If he tried to approach it from the other end, that altered things entirely. As the numbers began to swirl in his mind, Charlie raced back to the blackboard he'd been working on and erased what he'd written earlier, grabbing his chalk and starting anew.

A knock on the door followed by a greeting from his brother abruptly pulled Charlie out of his thoughts.

"Hey, Don," Charlie replied absently before writing a few more lines on the board to ensure that he didn't loose his train of thought. "What brings you by?" he asked as he finally turned around and caught the smile on Don's face. "What?"

"Nothing," Don shrugged, the smile only growing before he gestured around at the papers littered all over the office. "Just that this looks much more like your usual workspace now."

"I've been busy," Charlie protested before frowning as he noticed the file his brother held. "Do you need help with a case?"

"Not a new, active one. I just got a call from Howard saying he needs you to further clarify the math you used to help David and the others to track down and arrest Slobodan Radovic."

"Radovic?" Charlie questioned, unable to stop his eyes from glancing down at the spot on his brother's chest where the man in question had stabbed him. "I thought Robin was working that case."

"At the time, yes, but it's been decided that it would be better if the public prosecutor leading the case wasn't personally involved with one of the two agents who was attacked and wounded," Don explained nonchalantly, as if he wasn't the one who'd ended up in the hospital, fighting for his life.

"I see," Charlie said tersely, angry at Don's continued inability to fully open up to him and their father about his injuries. "When does Howard need it by?"

"I'm not sure, the sooner the better probably," Don replied, his eyes moving past his brother to look at the blackboard he'd been writing on and it was all Charlie could do to not jump in front of it and try to prevent Don from seeing it.

Not only would that be suspicious, but pointless as well as he knew that Don wouldn't understand any of it anyway.

"Why? You too busy at the moment? I thought this was your calm time without the students about or classes to teach."

"That doesn't mean I don't have anything to do," Charlie said as everything that Banner had said about needing to keep quiet about this consultation came back to him in an instant. "There are lectures for the fall to organize, calculations for collaborators to work on, not to mention my own research."

"Ah, okay," Don replied though Charlie thought he detected something more in his voice.

Did his brother suspect that he was holding back on him? Was he really that easy to read now that they'd grown so much closer than before?

'_You know you've never been really good at keeping secrets._'

Don's words from five years ago echoed through his mind. If he'd thought that when they'd only just started working together, then what did his brother think now? Would he have learned better by now or would that knowledge have been negated by an increased ability on his brother's part to read him? Charlie knew he'd never been great at masking his thoughts and emotions and Don had always been an excellent people person, his job honing the skill tremendously. Combined, that didn't make things very easy for him when he wanted to conceal something from Don, at least not when they were interacting with each other.

"Maybe it would be best if you give Howard a call and let him know it might be a few days," Don suggested as he handed Charlie the file.

"Ah, yes, okay."

"Are you going to be long? Dad's making brisket tonight."

"Huh?" Charlie asked, looking up from the file he'd opened for a quick look before he glanced at the clock in surprise.

Was it nearly seven already? He'd thought it was only four thirty or so. He'd obviously gotten lost in the math again, but the problem was such an interesting one, especially since that particular variable was still bothering him... If only the NSA would give him access to all of the information! Although, if he took x to be the ratio of-

"I'll take that as a yes, then?"

Charlie blinked, looking back at his brother, the earlier feeling that something wasn't _quite_ right back.

"Yeah, yeah," Charlie finally answered just as it looked like Don might ask him again. "What are you doing here so early anyway?"

"Seven is hardly early," Don replied, frowning.

"Says the man who regularly works until ten or eleven."

"We wrapped up the case we were working on at one, finished the paperwork and didn't get a new one. Which is good as I've got the weekend off."

"Oh, you got any plans?"

"Yes, but don't tell Robin as I want it to be a surprise."

"I see, well, have fun."

"I'm sure we will," Don assured him, his face still troubled. "Are you sure everything is okay? You seem worried."

Charlie silently cursed his inability to hide his emotions better from his brother.

"Yeah, yeah, it's really nothing. The problem I'm working on is giving me some trouble and without Larry or Amita around to bounce ideas off of, I've got to try and figure it out on my own."

"Ah, I see," Don began. "Well, I'd love to help, but-"

"I know, I'm on my own for this one."

"See you later."

"Bye," Charlie replied absently as a new thought occurred to him.

What if he forgot about x for the moment and instead focused his attention on the exponential component of the algorithm? It wasn't the normal way of handling a problem like this, but given some of what the creators had done, he figured leaving the tried and true path just might be the key in this case.

Which still didn't explain why it all seemed so familiar or why the secondary component of it bothered him so.

**

* * *

**

**Well, this round of the _Write-Off_ got me to finally start writing a story that's been at the back of my mind for a while now. I'd not really started it yet as it really needed to be told at least partially from Charlie's point of view in order to work properly and I've always been a bit wary of doing that.  
Oh, things mentioned here like the Blowfish Cipher Algorithm and the No Cloning Theorem are real, I just hope I managed to use them correctly. I tried my best with the help of Wikipedia, but it's not my area of expertise, so I can't guarantee anything.**


	2. Part I: Chapter 2

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Characters_: Charlie, Don

_Rating_: 15

_Summary_: _There was a certain irony to the situation, that the brother who was a federal agent had been abducted to be used as leverage against the brother who was an applied mathematics professor at a highly respected college._ Don Whump, Charlie Angst!

_Spoilers_: _Uncertainty Principle_, _Vector_, _Man Hunt_, _Dark Matter_, _Finders Keepers_, _Breaking Point_, _Black Swan_, _When Worlds Collide_, _The Decoy Effect_, _The Fifth Man_, _Greatest Hits_, _Angels and Devils_

_Note_: I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed the first chapter, I really appreciated it! I was also overwhelmed by the number of people who put the fic on _Story Alert_, thanks!. Here's the second chaper of Part I, the one from which the summary comes!

**

* * *

**

_**Part I: Charlie:** NSA_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 2:**_

**Sunday, 19:41  
Dr. Charles Eppes' Office, CalSci**

"Dr. Eppes?"

The voice followed by a touch of a hand to his arm caused Charlie to jump sharply. He whirled around and reached up to jerk the headphones from his head as he saw Banner standing before him, looking sheepish.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, but you missed all of my earlier attempts to catch your attention."

"No, that's okay," Charlie stated, feeling his heart rate start to slow down once more. "It's my fault. I tend to turn my music up quite loud when I work, making it hard for people to alert me to their presence. My brother keeps telling me I should turn it down, but it helps me concentrate."

A funny expression crossed Banner's face that Charlie couldn't quite decipher, but he figured the NSA agent was probably agreeing with his brother. It wasn't his fault that the music helped him focus, it just did. He'd tried to figure it out once, but had been forced to conclude that he couldn't explain it, it just helped so he used it.

"I assume you're here to see where I'm at?" Charlie continued, reaching down to put the iPod on pause.

"Yes, have you managed to crack either the encryption or the system yet?"

"No, sorry, it's proving to be far trickier than I originally thought."

"Why?"

"Well, for one, it appears to be the work of several different mathematicians instead of just one as I'd suspected at first," Charlie explained.

"And this makes a difference how?"

"It means that there are more things I need to consider. If it was all the work of one individual, then I'd be able to eliminate certain options based on his, or her, way of thinking. Different people will use different techniques to achieve the same goal and extrapolating from what they did in the early parts of the work I've looked at, I'd be able to predict what they'd be more likely to have done at later points."

"And this isn't possible with multiple people?"

"Not as easily, no. If I can tell which of the mathematicians designed a particular part of the programming, then I can still apply this method, but that requires that I can see enough of their work to reliably figure out which one of them coded the particular section in question."

"Okay," Banner said, thinking about this for a moment as his eyes glanced at the chalk covered boards. "Do you have any idea how long it might take you now that you're aware of this added difficulty?"

"A few more days, I'm afraid," Charlie responded apologetically.

"Days?"

"Yes, this really is quite a complicated piece of work. Whatever is on that computer you found is definitely considered to be extremely important to the owner as he went to a lot of effort to ensure that it was securely protected."

"What's wrong?" Banner demanded, effortlessly reading the uneasiness Charlie was feeling despite his uncertainty as to whether or not he should bring up the issue.

"It's just that... well, I, that is to say, there are certain, uh, _issues_ in the coding," Charlie began hesitantly, wondering what the best way was to broach the topic and his growing suspicions as to just who some of the mathematicians involved were.

Not to mention the myriad of implications if he was correct.

Charlie knew that if he was right there would be significant repercussions for the mathematicians involved and thus he was hesitant to bring it up. On the other hand, however, if the person in question really was working for an organization being investigated by the NSA, then they really did have to be stopped. He was just wary of turning such federal attention on a colleague without been a hundred percent sure that he was right. He'd seen first hand how a federal agency was likely to respond to even the suspicion of this type of activity.

"What do you mean?" Banner inquired sharply, his eyes snapping to Charlie's face even as he stiffened.

"Just that parts of it seem almost- familiar," Charlie explained, pausing briefly to find the right word. "Like they were written by someone I've come across before, someone who wouldn't be aiding anyone seeking to steal classified information from the NSA."

"How about you let us be the judge of that? I assume you know whose work this reminds you of?"

"No," Charlie refused point blank, squaring his shoulders for the argument he was sure would come.

"Look, Charlie, I told you on Thursday that we're investigating internal leaks within the Agency," Banner began, forced patience in his tone and bearing. "We don't yet know how far this treachery goes. For all we know it extends into the academic world as well via consultants who have been bribed or otherwise convinced to aid this group we're tracking."

"Now you're just reaching."

"Why? Because you don't think any of your colleagues would betray their country? Traitors come in all guises."

"I will not help you perform a witch hunt within Academia!"

"Dr. Eppes, the NSA does not conduct witch hunts. We do, however, track down traitors who reveal confidential information to our enemies. Some of the information that has been leaked has already resulted in the deaths of our soldiers abroad and many more lives are at stake, including those of law enforcement officers across the country who are put in jeopardy due to the advanced intel being received by our enemies who wish to strike on our soil."

Charlie felt a frisson of fear lance through him at those words, but he tried to shove it aside, determined not to let Banner distract him with that type of tactic. "And how exactly do you prevent that type of search from devolving into a witch hunt?"

"By following the evidence."

"I can't help you with this without further guarantees," Charlie argued stubbornly, his instincts screaming too loudly to be ignored.

"Dr. Eppes-" Banner stated wearily.

"Look, if what you're saying is true, then you won't mind if I check it to make sure the proper precautions have been put into place."

"As I told you at the beginning, this is a classified project, I would think you'd have learned what that means," Banner stated.

Charlie's expression darkened at the reference, but the jab only fueled his determination. "I wasn't planning on involving anyone without the proper clearance, I was merely going to call Bob- Bob Thompkins- he did always tell me it was better to check and be sure than to make a mistake."

With that, Charlie turned towards his desk and began looking for his cell. He was sure he'd put it here somewhere, but over the course of the intervening time, he had moved papers and exams and he'd spread out the papers the NSA had given him, not to mention the other junk that had somehow migrated into his workspace. Entropy at work.

Just as he found his cell and started to look up Bob's number, a Polaroid was dropped onto the desk in front of him and Charlie froze in horror. The picture was taken in what appeared to be a basement from the concrete floor and wall that was visible in the background. It was what was in the foreground, however, that drew and held his attention. It was Don. A battered and bloody Don, tied to a chair and gagged, but it was undeniably him. Charlie's heart leapt into his throat and his eyes widened in disbelief at the sight. The photo was so entirely unexpected and its contents so mind-boggling that he could do nothing but gawk at it as Banner reached over and took his cell from his suddenly nerveless fingers.

"I assume we understand each other," Banner said as he turned off the cell and dropped it onto the desk.

"Huh? What?" Charlie said before his mind finally turned back on and the pieces clicked together, causing him to pale. "This isn't something for the NSA, is it?"

"Not too quick for a genius, are you?"

"Leave Don out of this!" Charlie demanded, feeling as if the rug had been pulled out from under him as he realized that Don had been kidnapped and hurt because of _him_.

There was a certain irony to the situation, that the brother who was a federal agent had been abducted to be used as leverage against the brother who was an applied mathematics professor at a highly respected college, but at the moment Charlie completely ignored it, too horrified to witness what had been done to his brother because of him and his work. Although he couldn't quite make out all of the injuries on his torso, the blood staining his once baby blue dress shirt indicated that there were injuries there in addition to the bruises along his arms and on his face. There was blood dripping from a cut above Don's left eye and more from another cut on his lower lip. His left eye appeared puffy and the surrounding skin darker than the right one, indicating the beginnings of a possible black eye.

"I'm afraid it's already far too late for that, Charlie," Banner stated, a self-satisfied smile on his face. "Your brother remains with us until you've given us what we want."

"He's a federal agent!" Charlie argued, hoping to make the other man see logic, surely he of all people should know the significance of that.

"Yes, which means that in abducting and assaulting him, we've already committed two very serious felonies, so it would really be in his best interest that you do exactly what I tell you to or he won't survive this."

Charlie's breath caught in his throat and his blood turned to ice in his veins at the statement. No! They wouldn't, they wouldn't dare! Killing a federal agent was an automatic death penalty. The logic merely served to distract him for a few precious moments before the emotions swamped him and he stumbled back into his chair as his legs gave out.

_Donny!_

The mere thought of them killing his brother because of this was enough to nearly make him vomit and he struggled to overcome the impulse. With a shaking hand, he reached out and picked up the Polaroid, needing to feel that it was real and not some horrible figment of his imagination. His eyes were drawn back to each of the visible injuries in turn and the restraints used to control his big brother, to make him helpless for whatever they wanted to do to him. Like this, Don would be completely unable to defend himself- to prevent them from doing anything to him... to prevent them from killing him.

"Y- you wouldn't," Charlie retorted desperately, wincing at how weak and rough his voice sounded.

"Oh, no, trust me, Dr. Eppes, we will," Banner refuted, stepping in close and shoving a second photo at him, this one a close-up of Don's face with a gun pressed hard enough against his temple to create a ring of white skin around the muzzle.

The NSA agent laughed at the inarticulate noise of horror Charlie made, before he leaned in even closer and whispered into his ear.

"Though, just between you and me, I wouldn't count on him being quite so lucky as to get such a clean death. The man holding the gun on Agent Eppes here _really_ doesn't like FBI agents very much at all. And you never know, if you take too long, he may just be unable to resist hurting your big brother some more. There are many places one can put a bullet without causing a life threatening injury."

"No! You leave him alone."

Banner merely stepped back and shrugged. "Like I said, he _really_ doesn't like Feds much. We've already had to stop him from hurting Agent Eppes any worse. Tick, tock, little brother, time's running out on your big brother's life. What will it be?"

"I-," Charlie began, his voice failing him as he was unable to tear his eyes from the barrel of the gun pushed so harshly against Don's temple.

'_Statistically, you're dead now. You understand what that means? A man aimed a gun at your head and fired. The fact that you survived is an anomaly, and it's unlikely to be the outcome of a second such encounter._'

Charlie swallowed thickly as his own words came back to haunt him. They weren't an exact match for the situation, but it was close enough. If the man holding the gun now were to pull the trigger, they would be prophetic as there was absolutely no room for error. There was not a single chance his brother would survive.

Well, not really now, at least he hoped the man wasn't still holding the gun on his brother! The meaning remained, though. Trussed up as he was, it didn't matter if the man was currently holding the gun to Don's head or not as Don would be completely unable to stop him from bringing it to bear again any time the man wished to do so.

The mere thought of Don being helpless sent another wave of horror through Charlie. Don was _never_ helpless, he was always either in control or fighting tooth and nail to get in control. To see him restrained was nearly worse than seeing the gun held to his head, nearly.

He was so absorbed in the photo and it's implications that Charlie completely forgot about the other man in the room with him until Banner grabbed hold of his chin and jerked his head upwards so their eyes met. Instead of the friendly or professional gaze he was used to, the NSA agent's eyes were now instead a cold, hard blue, like glittering chips of ice. He shivered as the unrelenting gaze bore into him. How could he ever have thought of this man, if not as a friend, then as a friendly acquaintance? How had he been so horribly deceived by him?

"I'm waiting, Dr. Eppes," Banner stated politely, though his voice contained an edge of impatience. "This is your brother we're talking about here, surely it can't be that hard of a decision to make. Unless you don't much care for him?"

"No! Of course I care for him!" Charlie retorted sharply, the suggestion enraging him.

Sure, he and Don had not always been close, but he had never wished ill on his older brother. Well, not really. Yes, he'd wanted to hurt him at times, wished to do it occasionally if only to make Don pay more attention to him or to stop treating him like a little brat, but that was merely frustration and anger speaking. He'd never really wanted to see his brother harmed.

Too late, Charlie realized that he'd just played right into Banner's hands. He didn't need to see the triumphant smile cross the other man's face to know they now knew for certain that threatening Don would elicit a good reaction from him. How could he have been so stupid? Well, not that it really made all _that_ much difference, he reasoned, trying desperately not to give into the numbers that wanted to rush in and numb his mind to the horrible situation he so suddenly found himself in. His earlier reactions to the two photos would already have been more than enough of a response to tell Banner all he needed to know.

If, indeed, they'd needed any verification at all. They seemed to be well enough informed already of the relationship between himself and Don. Not to mention that they must have done a certain amount of research into his older brother ahead of time as well to have successfully kidnapped him. Don was nothing if not excellent at what he did and he didn't make an easy target, so they must have planned the abduction very carefully and known what to expect from him in order to carry it out successfully.

"Then I take it you'll comply with our requests?" Banner pushed, sounding for all the world like they were merely discussing a business transaction instead of torture, coercion and potential murder.

"Yes, I'll do it, just don't hurt Don anymore," Charlie replied, knowing that his brother would be disappointed in him.

Don would urge him to resist, to not comply with Banner and the others working with him as he still didn't know the specifics of what he was working on. He still didn't have the first clue what information the encryption and security program protected, the options were nearly limitless in this day of electronic expansion where everything from banking to government agencies used computer transactions to conduct business.

The problem was that Charlie couldn't do it. He couldn't simply sit back and refuse to do the math for them when his big brother's very life hung in the balance. He just wasn't that strong and he knew it. If doing what Banner wanted meant that Don would be set free, then he had no option but to do exactly that.

At least he hoped he could. It had been a bitter pill to swallow, but Charlie had finally been forced to admit that his brother was right when he said that he didn't deal well with emotional pressure. Give him an impossible deadline or a challenging problem and he was all over it, breaking it down logically and resolving the situation in the most rational manner possible. But as soon as emotions got involved, his coping mechanisms seemed to break down and in such a way that he wasn't even aware of their doing so at the time. Well, until recently, anyway.

With Amita, he'd known, but that was such an extreme example that he really couldn't be certain that he'd realize he was compromised in a less stressful case. He desperately hoped so, but Charlie knew that in the past he'd always been so certain of himself, so sure he was still acting rationally, that he was embarrassed to even think about how he'd acted.

So, would he be able to focus on the damned problem now, knowing what had been done to Don? Knowing what his brother could be going through even now? It had been so excruciatingly difficult to focus enough on the low level math he'd needed to perform when Amita had been taken that he really wasn't sure whether he could concentrate long enough on this formidable task that they wanted him to do.

The question was whether the knowledge that Don's very life hung in the balance would be enough to overcome his natural instinct to hide himself in the safe world mathematics represented or enough to launch him out of it to concentrate on the issue at hand. At the present, he simply didn't know as it was all still too much. His whole world had been turned upside down so suddenly that he was still flailing about, desperately attempting to come to terms with what had happened and all of the implications thereof.

**

* * *

**

**This chapter is really the reason why I felt that this particular story would be much better off at least partially done from someone else's point of view.  
The image of Charlie getting shown the photos of Don is one of the first ones that came to me and was the first part that was written.  
Besides, with all those stories out there of something happening to Charlie because of Don, I just had to wonder. Isn't it just as likely for it to happen the other way around if criminals were to learn all that Charlie can do with his math?**


	3. Part I: Chapter 3

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Characters_: Charlie, Don

_Rating_: 15

_Summary_: _There was a certain irony to the situation, that the brother who was a federal agent had been abducted to be used as leverage against the brother who was an applied mathematics professor at a highly respected college._ Don Whump, Charlie Angst!

_Spoilers_: _Uncertainty Principle_, _Vector_, _Man Hunt_, _Dark Matter_, _Finders Keepers_, _Breaking Point_, _Black Swan_, _When Worlds Collide_, _The Decoy Effect_, _The Fifth Man_, _Greatest Hits_, _Angels and Devils_

_Note_: Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, it's greatly appreciated!

**

* * *

**

_**Part I: Charlie: **NSA_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 3:**_

**Sunday, 23:54  
Dr. Charles Eppes' Office, CalSci**

'_Oh, one more thing, Dr. Eppes,_' Banner's voice still looped round in Charlie's mind long after the man himself had left him alone. '_You are not to inform anyone of this, do you understand?_'

Charlie could still feel the helplessness that had swamped him at the instruction, knowing only all too well what would follow it.

'_If we even suspect that you've been talking with anyone about what you know, or that you've shown the photos to any of your dear brother's colleagues, he will be the one to suffer the consequences._'

The piece of chalk he held in his hand snapped in two as anger flooded him and his fists clenched involuntarily. Whereas Charlie had only felt fear and desperation then, he'd now added rage to those emotions even as the fear slowly morphed into terror. Banner had taken his earlier estimate as a deadline, adding that Don would be beaten or otherwise hurt for any delays. The threat had served to make him hyper aware of the clocks in his office and exactly how quickly time seemed to fly by as he desperately tried to break the encryption and security codes.

Whenever he felt the frustration threatening to swap him and drag him under in a wave of unrelated numbers and the elusive P vs. NP he had such a love-hate relationship with, Charlie would force himself to look at the two Polaroids Banner had left with him and which he'd taped to the side of the main blackboard he was using. The contrast between the ordered and logical mathematical expressions and algorithms written in white chalk on black slate against the red blood and blue bruises on his brother's skin sent a shock jolting through him every time he looked at them.

It was now, as he was looking at the photos without the element of the initial shock and horror, that Charlie noticed something he'd missed earlier. In both pictures Don's expression was grim but defiant. The look in his eyes was similar to one he had seen a million times, but harsher than he'd ever witnessed. It was the same one Don got whenever he was digging in his heels, determined to resist, no matter the cost. Only now it was fused with a controlled rage the likes of which Charlie had never seen before in his brother's eyes. On some level it chilled him, but it nonetheless managed to bring a fond smile to his face.

"Oh, Donny," Charlie whispered, voice hoarse.

Trust Don to resist, even in such obvious peril, when temperance was most definitely the better course of action. A lick of anger was set alight within Charlie at the thought. Why did his brother always have to play the damn hero? To be strong even when it was clearly only going to get him hurt? Why couldn't he, just for once, react like a normal person and not draw attention to himself by all but daring his captors to hurt him with that look? Why couldn't he just keep his defiance hidden for once and allow himself to be rescued?

Charlie froze in horror as the answer to the last question dawned on him.

Don had said that he had plans for the weekend, but his asking his little brother not to let Robin know about them clearly indicated that she was unaware of them. This meant that Robin might not even have known that her boyfriend had the weekend off, depending on how secretive Don had been. If he'd had plans with Robin, Don would also not have made any with anyone else, meaning that no one would have missed him when he'd been kidnapped by whoever Banner was working with.

Eyes darting to the clock confirmed Charlie's suspicion that it was still Sunday evening, if only just. The horror he'd felt upon seeing the first Polaroid was back as he realized that it was quite possible that no one else even knew yet that Don was missing, let alone being held captive against his will and being... His mind tried to shy away from the thought, but with a concerted effort he forced himself to meet it head on. Tortured. Don was being tortured and it was happening because of him and his math. They were torturing Don so that he would solve this damn problem for them.

A wave of anguish and despair washed over him. What was he going to do? Charlie knew he lost most of his perspective when he was emotionally invested in a case. Don's '_Look, I've seen this happen to you over and over again, the stress gets too close to home and you don't see straight, you check out_' just recently when Amita had been taken proved that it wasn't something he was imagining. He also had no doubt that he'd probably been the last one to realize it.

Amita. Don.

Why was this happening again? Wasn't it enough that his fiance had so recently been abducted, did it really have to happen to his brother so soon afterwards? At least then he'd been able to rely on Don. The fact that he'd had his cell phone out and had hit the appropriate speed dial for his older brother before he'd even realized it said it all about who he turned to in this type of situation. In some form or another, it had always been Don who he turned too, even when they were fighting as kids or when they'd been separated by a gulf larger than he currently wanted to think about. His first instinct had always been to call Don. Now, however, it was Don who needed his help. Don who was in trouble and needed rescuing and it was all his fault.

This brought him right back around to the fact that, chances were, no one else even knew what had happened. It was nearly incomprehensible to Charlie that his whole world could have been shattered so suddenly and that no one but himself and Don were any the wiser. To think that everyone- Robin, Dad, David, Colby and Nikki- was just going about their usual business while Don was being kept prisoner somewhere, maybe even being hurt right now, was mind-boggling. Some of them might even be thinking negatively of his big brother at the moment, their father and Robin in particular, for the fact that he hadn't called them this weekend.

Charlie's mind froze as the implications of his last thought hit him. His mouth dried suddenly as he looked back down at the photo and realized that, yes, Don _was_ wearing the same baby blue dress shirt he'd had on when he'd stopped by Friday evening. Which meant that he'd never made it home after he left this very office. He resisted the urge to rush outside and see if he could find his brother's car in the parking lot. It didn't matter if he'd been kidnapped from CalSci itself or somewhere else along the way, what mattered was that he'd been taken sometime Friday evening and he himself had been completely unaware of it until earlier tonight when Banner had produced the photos.

Forty-eight hours.

Don had been abducted, tortured and imprisoned for nearly two full days before anyone had even become aware of it. The first forty-eight hours were the most critical in any kidnapping case. Had that been deliberate? Had they specially planned it out that way or was that just when the best opportunity had presented itself? Charlie knew that attacking a federal agent was not a task to be undertaken lightly, not only were they specially trained, but they were armed. Not that either had apparently done Don any good.

He shoved the uncharitable thought aside instantly. Don had probably been caught completely unaware. This, this had nothing to do with his brother, it had to do with him and thus it was not something Don could have predicted or taken precautionary steps against. Banner and the others, however, had known exactly what they were doing. They'd known who and what their target was and how he was likely to react and that he'd be armed. They'd have known all of this and factored it into their plan; they'd have compensated for it.

Don hadn't stood a chance.

The mere image of Don being ambushed like that, or indeed of anyone even _planning_ to attack his brother in that manner made Charlie's knees buckle and he reached for his chair and collapsed into it. The thoughts inevitably led him back to the one thing he'd struggled so hard not to think about. The torture. Banner had said they'd continue to hurt Don as long as it took him to hack this system, whatever it was. He'd already vomited into his trash earlier when he'd been unable to tear his thoughts away from what had been done to his brother and he struggled now in order to prevent a repeat of that, knowing he had nothing left in his stomach but bile.

Even as he wrestled with that, a part of Charlie's mind was occupied with another decision altogether. He'd tried to avoid thinking about it earlier, not wanting to distract himself from the line of thought he had going, but it refused to be suppressed now that he'd realized no one else was yet aware of what had happened to Don. The most critical window of time had already passed since the kidnapping, but the FBI wouldn't know that come Monday morning when they finally discovered that something had happened to their Violent Crimes Squad supervisor.

Yes, Banner had said that he couldn't say anything to Don's team, but it wasn't going to be that simple once they realized Don had vanished. David was going to do everything he possibly could to find his boss and one of the first things that would entail would be to contact himself and his father. While he could act like he knew nothing over the phone, it was the subsequent visit or request to join them at the FBI offices that worried him. Although David and Colby couldn't read him as well as his brother, he was sure they'd quickly come to see something wasn't quite right.

Even if his worry about what the people Banner was working with were doing to Don was interpreted simply as concern over Don's unexplained disappearance, they'd surely ask him to help them. What was he to say then? How could he possibly explain that he _couldn't_ help them? Well, his breakdown during Amita's abduction might actually be helpful in that area as they were sure to know that he wouldn't be able to help them very much, but that still left him with the need to explain that he had to return to, or remain at, CalSci.

It was with a start that Charlie discovered that he'd already decided not to let them know what had really happened to Don. Either by calling them now and alerting them to the situation immediately or when they were sure to press him for any information he might possess about what could have happened to his brother. He could practically see Don's disapproving frown aimed at him at the thought, but he wasn't sure that he could change his mind on this particular topic. Not with what Banner had said they'd do to Don if they discovered that he'd deliberately disobeyed their orders.

Yes, he knew it was better to report abductions to the authorities than to try and deal with them on your own, but this was hardly a normal kidnapping. Well, if there was such a thing as a normal kidnapping. This time at least one of the people involved was a federal agent working for the NSA. While he still couldn't quite believe that Banner had turned against everything he'd used to stand for, he did know exactly what that meant. The man knew all about normal procedures in cases like this and was an expert in covert surveillance.

The fact that Banner had turned up at precisely the right time to reveal to him that they'd kidnapped and assaulted Don proved that they were probably monitoring him quite closely. Charlie had to fight the urge to start looking about his office for fear of giving away the fact that he knew they were watching him. It might come in handy later on.

The other thing holding him back from going to David and the team was the knowledge that they might well prevent him from working on the problem and giving Banner what he desired. They'd waste valuable time trying to uncover exactly what the security features protected and while he didn't doubt that they'd try to set up something similar to the fake site they'd used to convince Duryea that Amita had hacked into the Farmer's American Bank, it would take time. Precious time which Don simply might not have.

A quick glance at the nearest clock sent Charlie leaping to his feet, cursing the time he'd wasted just sitting there. He didn't have the luxury of contemplating the best way to handle David, Colby or Nikki when they came. He'd just have to cross that particular bridge when he came to it, but for now he had to continue working on the algorithms Banner wanted broken.

It wasn't until later, when he was already writing expressions on the board, that Charlie realized what he'd said when he'd spoken aloud so briefly earlier.

Donny.

It was an old nickname and one that both he and his parents had used years ago when he and Don were both still kids. As a toddler, he'd stubbornly refused to call his brother anything else despite the fact that Don was clearly easier to pronounce than Donny. It had stuck even after Don had reached the stage where he saw himself as too old for nicknames and loudly expressed his wish to only be called Don.

Charlie could only all too easily recall the last time he had called his brother Donny. It had been in high school. He hadn't meant to, but the nickname had accidentally slipped out when his brother's friends had been around and it had been too juicy a piece of information for them to simply let lie. Even now, nearly two decades later, he cringed at the memory of the glare Don had sent him. He hadn't bothered to say anything, but then, he hadn't had to.

It was with a sudden strange desire that Charlie desperately hoped that he'd get that particular glare once again. He didn't want Don so very angry with him, but if he were to receive it once more, then that meant his brother was not only alive to deliver it, but with him as well and that was all he wanted at the moment.

**

* * *

**

**Well, that's the end of Part I, I hope you enjoyed it!  
Part II will be Don's POV and is Fugitive Recovery where Charlie was NSA (see top of the page if you're not sure what I mean). I hope to have Chapter 4 up next week.**


	4. Part II: Chapter 4

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Betas_: ALEO & fredbassett

_Note_: It has been brought to my attention that the NSA does not have agents like other federal agencies do. However, since in _Finders Keepers_, the two NSA men were called agents and since I've already started posting this fic and there is no way to alter the plot to accomodate this, I shall keep everything as it is.

**

* * *

**

_**Part II: Don:** Fugitive Recovery_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 4:**_

**Friday, 19:09  
Dr. Charles Eppes' Office, CalSci**

Don hesitated a moment more, watching his little brother shift his attention back to whatever problem he was working on, before he turned around and left the office. Something was clearly bothering Charlie, something more than simply being stuck on a problem, but he hadn't wanted to push him. Mostly because it really could be something math related but also because it could be a matter of his little brother not trusting him enough to talk about it with him and, cowardly as it was, he didn't really want to hear that. Not after Charlie's promise not to keep important things from him again after the incident last year with Taylor and his men.

He'd give it a few days, Don decided as he exited the mathematics building and headed back towards the Suburban across the darkening and deserted campus. If whatever was going on was clearly still bothering Charlie on Sunday evening, he'd push for more information. It wasn't like his little brother was currently working on an active case like the last time, so it should be okay to leave it alone for two days.

The worry served to distract him enough that the pain exploded in the back of his skull almost before he sensed the presence behind him. Don went down with a startled cry, stunned by the unexpectedness of the attack. For a second he simply lay on the pavement, fighting to remain conscious, before he felt a hand at his belt, trying to get at his holster. Instantly instinct kicked in and he lashed out blindly with his legs, aiming in the general direction of his assailant in a desperate attempt to prevent himself from being disarmed. The grunt of pain and sudden withdrawal of the hand proved that he'd at least hit his target.

Fueled by a burst of adrenaline, Don rolled over onto his back, a move he immediately regretted as pain and nausea shot through him, followed swiftly by dizziness. Despite that, he reached down and grasped hold of the butt of his Glock, pulling it free in a well practiced move. A sudden flurry of movement to his right, followed by a vicious kick delivered to his side, all but forced him to drop the gun and he was only able to maintain his grip through sheer force of will, knowing that if he lost it, he didn't stand a chance, not with the blurry double vision the first blow had caused.

"Goddamn bastard!" a voice thick with fury exclaimed as Don protectively curled around his injured side, trying to determine if anything had been broken.

"I thought you could handle a single fed," a second voice stated as he felt hands on his right arm.

With a sudden jerk of his limb, Don wrested his arm away from the hands and desperately tried to move enough to bring his Glock to bear on either of the two men attacking him. He'd hardly managed to lift his arm before fingers closed around his wrist and he was backhanded across the face. His head bounced off the pavement, sending waves of fire shooting into his brain from the tender area where he'd been clubbed earlier. Darkness overwhelmed his vision and he must have blacked out for a few moments as the next thing he was aware of was being turned onto his stomach, his gun long gone from his grasp.

Before Don could even think about struggling, one of the two men knelt on his back and he vaguely felt more tugging at his belt. His suspicion of exactly what the man was doing was confirmed a moment later when his right arm was picked up and he felt cold metal snap tightly into place around his wrist. They were using his own cuffs to restrain him! Furious, he pulled his left arm away before they could grasp it and braced it against the ground next to his shoulder, intending to try and buck the man off of him.

The distinctive click of a gun being cocked seconds before something hard was jabbed roughly into his back caused Don to freeze in place instantly.

"Persistent son of a bitch, aren't you?" a cold voice tinged with humor stated as his left arm was grabbed and forced behind his back.

The tone of voice matched the second person who'd spoke earlier, the one who felt like he wore steel tipped shoes. Don hissed between clenched teeth as his arm was twisted before the wrist was cuffed. Whoever he was, and Don suspected the one on his back was the one who'd clubbed him, he'd obviously never heard of the finger tip of space rule used when handcuffing someone. Well, either that or he just didn't care. Regardless of the reason, the steel bracelets had been fastened tight enough that he was sure they'd rip his skin open before long.

Although his vision was still blurry, Don's eyes had finally adjusted enough that he was able to make out more detail than simple vague outlines of shapes. Unfortunately, he lay with the right side of his face pressed into the pavement and the second man was on his right. Not wanting to startle him with the safety off on the gun pressed against him, he was unable to take in his situation visually. From the brief glimpses he'd caught during the struggle, he knew that neither of his assailants wore masks, a fact which didn't bode well for him as they were clearly not worried about him being able to identify them when they were done with whatever was going on here. Neither did the fact that they knew he was an FBI agent and had chosen to attack him anyway. Only three types of criminals directly assaulted a federal agent like this, those too stupid to realize the consequences, those with nothing to loose or those who'd assessed the risk and potential consequences and deemed them worth it to accomplish their goals.

He wasn't quite sure which category he hoped his attackers fell into.

"What do you want?" Don finally demanded, as soon as he was sure his voice would come out as strong and firm as he wanted it to. "What is this about?"

"There will be time enough for all of that later," Shoes stated.

Before he could argue with that, Don felt the gun shift slightly against his spine and he realized that he could do nothing but wait to see what this was all about. At least they were planning on there being a later; that was some good news at least, though he supposed they wouldn't have bothered restraining him if they simply planned to kill him outright. It meant that they wanted something and most likely from him. Briefly he felt a flare of fear that they'd followed him to CalSci before he shoved it aside. If they'd meant Charlie any harm, they wouldn't have waited until he came out of the building to attack, it would have been quicker and safer for them to have done it inside, where less people were likely to notice what was happening.

While it could have meant a 911 call if anyone had been around, Don was almost grateful the campus was all but deserted. The rapid escalation of the struggle to Shoes cocking his gun indicated that these two meant business and he had a nasty suspicion of exactly how they'd have dealt with any unwanted attention.

His thoughts were interrupted by the feel of a hand reaching into the front right pocket of his pants. It took him a second to realize what the man was looking for before the questing fingers closed around his keys and pulled them out.

"Here, double lock those cuffs," Shoes ordered.

The jangling of metal on metal accompanied the handover of keys and seconds later Don felt them tap against his wrists as the handcuff key he kept on the ring was used to ensure that he had no hope of getting out of the cuffs. At least it would also serve the dual purpose of ensuring that the cuffs weren't tightened any further, either on purpose or by accident, and cut off the blood supply to his hands or damaged the fragile nerves.

"Get up," it was the first man, Club, Don decided for lack of a better name.

The gun was removed from his back and the order was followed by a jerk to his bound wrists, forcing his arms upwards and straining his shoulders, conversely pushing his upper body back down against the pavement and he was forced to lift his head least it be scraped against the concrete. The sudden movement caused pain and dizziness to ripple through his skull and he had to fight down the wave of nausea that followed. Yeah, he was pretty sure he had a concussion.

"Stop that, there will be time for that later as well," Shoes declared sternly. "Now get him up before anyone catches us."

For a moment, Don was sure Club wouldn't obey the other man before his cuffs were released and he sagged back in relief, his shoulders still screaming. A moment later, Club's hands were back, but on his upper arms, pulling him upwards. Not trusting the man, he scrambled to get his feet under him, not wanting to fall if Club decided to drop him. The sudden shift in position made the world spin and he was forced to squeeze his eyes shut. Doing so seemed to help and he was able to open his eyes again a few seconds later though, with the sun low on the horizon and shining in them, it was still somewhat difficult to see things clearly.

He could just make out Shoes standing across from him with a Beretta held by his side. They appeared to be about the same height, though Shoes outweighed him by a good thirty or forty pounds of solid muscle. They also shared a common hair color, but the other man's was longish which surprised Don as he'd half expected to see a military style buzz cut for some reason. He was dressed casually in a pair of black jeans and navy blue short sleeved shirt, which would have served to make him fit right into his current surroundings if there'd been anyone about to notice him.

Don's automatic assessment of the man was cut short as the man who'd pulled him upright released one of his arms. He filed away his observations even as he tried to shake the haze from his mind, wanting his wits about him, so he could figure out the best way to deal with his present situation. Absently he licked his lips, the sharp metallic taste which exploded on his tongue alerting him that the slight throbbing of his lower lip was due to a bleeding cut.

"Let's go," Shoes said, gesturing towards the parking lot with his gun.

The knowledge of how much more difficult it would become for his team to find him if he were transported somewhere else warred within Don against the growing suspicion of how his two assailants would probably deal with any innocents who might happen across them if they stayed. His brief hesitation was met with a hard shove between the shoulder blades which sent him stumbling forwards and caused the whole world to tilt dangerously. He'd have ended up right back on the pavement if it weren't for the harsh grip Club maintained on his bicep, keeping him upright.

"Just give me a reason," Club almost begged, a wicked looking knife appearing over Don's shoulder, far too close to his face for comfort. "Bet you'd look real pretty covered in blood."

"Enough! We need him alive and in reasonably good condition if we want to get the professor to cooperate."

Don turned his head to face the new voice as soon as the knife was lowered and found himself staring at a man who looked suspiciously like a federal agent between the suit he was wearing and the gun holstered openly at his belt. It took a few seconds for the meaning of his words to penetrate his seemingly cotton wrapped mind, but when they did, they sent a spike of fear through him. '_The professor_,' it was too much of a coincidence for that to refer to anyone other than Charlie. From the sounds of it, his little brother had something, or knew something, these men wanted and they were hoping to use him to obtain it. They were planning to use him to force Charlie's hand in the matter.

Rage exploded within him at the thought of these men even interacting with his little brother and adrenaline shot through him as all of his protective instincts kicked into full gear. Without stopping to fully think about what he was about to do, or to give his assailants any time to anticipate his actions, he lifted his right foot and brought it down hard on Club's instep. The man gave a cry of pain and his grip on Don's upper arm loosened. Not waiting for more, Don wrenched himself free from Club's grip and started to twist away, intended to ram Shoes with his shoulder before making a break for the nearest building and use it for cover before Suit could reach his gun.

Even though, on some more rational level, Don knew his plan was a foolish one and that the odds were seriously stacked against him, he growled in frustration as he felt Club's hand close on his shoulder once more, spinning him around. His whole world titled alarmingly once more and he barely caught the silver flash of the knife's blade as it arced through the air, coming directly at him. The white-hot agony of a blade entering his body flashed through Don before the pavement rushed up at him once more and he cried out before he could stop himself.

"No!" Suit exclaimed, his voice barely discernable over the rushing in Don's ears. "We need him alive!"

"Relax, he's not critically injured," Club retorted.

The agony seemed so real, so all consuming, that it was with a start that Don realized it was a memory instead of pain from a current injury. Yes, a fiery trail burning across his ribs and the sticky feel of blood indicated that the blade had made contact with his body, but the knife hadn't actually been thrust into him as had happened the last time with Radovic.

"We don't have time for this," Shoes interrupted before the argument could escalate any further. "Put the blade away and pick him up, we leave now."

Once again, Don found himself hauled to his feet and supported by Club. He wasn't sure why they bothered as he seemed to keep ending up on the pavement anyway. He was becoming quite familiar with it, much more so than in all the years he'd come to CalSci. Ironically enough, his head seemed to have cleared somewhat and he was able to steady himself quickly this time. As if sensing this, Club pulled a gun out and jabbed it viciously into the junction of Don's neck where it met his jaw, effectively silencing him as well.

"Told you he's more trouble than he's worth," Club pronounced, the tone of his voice causing Don to frown.

Although he didn't recognize the man's voice, it was starting to become more than clear that the man knew him. Don wanted to turn his head so he could get a good look at Club's face and see if he too knew the man, but the gun still digging into his jaw forced him to reconsider. It wasn't worth the risk at the moment, but as soon as possible, he'd take a good look. Perhaps if he knew exactly who Club was, he'd be able to more accurately assess his present predicament.

"I don't know," Shoes stated, looking at him consideringly and Don remembered the amusement in his voice earlier when he'd held him at gunpoint to allow Club to cuff him. "He's got spirit, I admire that."

"Yeah, until it gets someone killed," the words were snapped out, fairly dripping with rage as Club jabbed the gun brutally against his neck, forcing his head back.

Okay, he'd definitely met Club before and, from the sounds of it, been forced to kill someone close to him. Don closed his eyes as he realized that he probably wasn't going to walk away from this one. Regardless of what the others may have planned for him and Charlie, he didn't think this one was going to be satisfied with anything short of his death. A slow and painful death too, from the look of things.

"Besides, it confirms Blakely's suspicions," Shoes continued, completely ignoring Club's response. "And makes his decision to take this one out of the equation now, before he has a chance to cause any serious damage, a good one."

"Can we finish this conversation somewhere more private before we're spotted?" Suit demanded uneasily.

"We're going," Shoes stated almost soothingly before he tossed something at Suit. "Here, move his car."

Don had just opened his mouth to protest, thinking of the weaponry and specialized equipment kept in the Suburban, when Club pulled the gun from his throat. Seconds later, he found himself spun around again only to find a fist rushing towards him. He managed to move his head slightly, staying conscious long enough to feel the majority of the blow catch him in the temple instead of his left eye before he finally lost the battle and darkness swallowed him whole.

**

* * *

**

**Well, there we go, the first chapter of Part II, Don's point of view of events.  
As Charlie suspected, Don was attacked and captured long before even he knew about what had happened. I hope you liked seeing the abduction from Don's POV. Now you also know a few more of the characters involved in the scenario. Suit is, of course, Banner while Shoes and Club will be identified in the next chapter.**


	5. Part II: Chapter 5

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Spoilers_: (updated list): _Uncertainty Principle_, _Vector_, _Man Hunt_, _Dark Matter_, _Spree_, _Two Daughters_, _Brutus_, _Finders Keepers_, _One Hour_, _The Janus List_, _Breaking Point_, _Black Swan_, _When Worlds Collide_, _The Decoy Effect_, _Jack of All Trades_, _Arrow of Time_, _The Fifth Man_, _Greatest Hits_, _Angels and Devils_

_Note_: Sorry it's been so long since the last chapter, real-life intervened for one of my betas. I've been writing like mad over the weekend, though, and hope to have chapters 6 & 7 off to the betas soon. They'll come online as soon as possible!

**

* * *

**

_**Part II: Don:** Fugitive Recovery_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 5:**_

**Friday, 22:12  
Basement, Unknown Location**

The pain was the first thing to penetrate the darkness that shrouded his mind and Don moaned before he fully recalled what had happened. As soon as he did, he stilled, hoping that no one had been around to hear the noise or that they'd assume he was still out of it so that he could assess his situation. What he could feel wasn't promising. He seemed to be seated in a chair, with his arms and legs aligned its sides. The pressure on his wrists and ankles indicated that he'd been tied to the chair. Oh, well, at least the too tight cuffs were gone.

"You can stop playing possum, Agent Eppes," Shoes' voice stated, amusement clear in his tone. "I know you're awake, besides, I thought you wanted some answers?"

Slowly, Don opened his eyes, not wanting to blind himself should the light in the room be too bright. It wasn't and he was able to take in his surroundings immediately. The room appeared to be a basement of some sort, as noted by the undecorated concrete ceiling, floor and walls and the bare light bulbs that hung from the ceiling. On the far side of the room two sturdy wooden doors in the wall next to each other, one with several locks, seemed to be the only entrances or exits to the basement.

Despite the room having only the bare essentials, there was absolutely nothing lacking about the state-of-the-art computer equipment set up across from him. The large desk fairly sagged under the weight of the multitude of monitors perched upon it and the two low filing cabinets on either side of it. The rest of the desktop was covered in wires, other computer equipment he didn't recognize, an international clock displaying the date and time, a keyboard and mouse, a wrist protector, a few dirty dishes and sheaves of papers strewn about, much like Charlie's usually were, across the work surface. A fancy chair on wheels stood in front of the desk with a sweater thrown carelessly across the back as if taken off and forgotten. The floor around the desk was stacked high with what appeared to be a dozen or more hard drives, the wires going everywhere, with all color and manner of lights blinking on and off.

What really caught his eye, though, was the NSA logo which moved across most of the screens in a typical screensaver pattern; aimless and annoying. What on Earth was that doing here? His earlier feeling of dread deepened as he saw the same eagle and key logo embossed across several of the papers scattered on the desk.

Something was _very, very_ wrong here.

Don took all of this in within a few seconds, finally bringing his gaze to rest on the room's sole occupant other than himself. The man was looking at him calmly, patiently waiting for him to finish his perusal of his surroundings. It was as if Shoes understood the instinctive reaction to take in a new location before focusing on other matters. Green eyes, Don noted automatically, adding it to the description he'd already filed away about the man. He hadn't been able to tell that particular detail the last time between his blurry vision and the sun shining in his eyes. A blue-green more than a brown-green, unusual given his hair color, but that was a good thing, it would make him easier to identify.

"What do you want with my brother?" Don demanded, his voice coming out weaker than he would have liked it to.

The question caused Shoes' lips to curl upwards as the man studied him closely. "You're a dangerous one," he finally commented.

"Huh?"

"Blakely knew that any attack on your family would set you off, and your record more than speaks for itself. You'd never have stopped hunting us."

"No, I won't," Don promised darkly, knowing he shouldn't but the mere thought of them using him as a pawn against his brother infuriated him. "How did you access my records?"

"That's irrelevant at the moment, but you should be thankful that we did."

"Why?"

"Because, if we hadn't known how dangerous you could be to us, we'd never have targeted you. Why abduct a federal agent when there's an old man who'll not only be easier to kidnap, but to control as well?"

Don felt ice flow through his veins and horror flood him as he realized what Shoes was saying. Dad! Just the thought of them attacking his father the way they had him made him sick to his stomach, even as it enraged him further.

"Once we had a look at your file, though, we knew you'd never let the unexplained disappearance of your father go lightly. No, given the lengths you went to in order to get one of your agents back when she was taken, we knew we couldn't afford to leave you free to start hunting us."

He hated to admit it, even to himself, but Shoes was right, Don _was_ thankful they had access to his file if that was what had spared his father this fate. Even what he'd allowed Ian to do during the Hoyle-Winters case took on a better light if it helped keep them away from Dad. But why was this happening at all? What did they want so desperately from his little brother that they felt they needed a hostage in order to obtain it?

"What is this all about?" Don demanded, the rage he felt leaking into his voice. "What do you want from Charlie?"

"The same as anyone else, I should imagine," Shoes responded with a slight shrug. "For him to solve a problem that is, at its core, mathematical in nature."

"He won't do it," Don stated bluntly.

It was a boldfaced lie, but Don was glad at how convincingly it came out. He knew Charlie wouldn't be able to say no if he knew that they had him. Hell, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to follow procedure if they'd grabbed Dad or Charlie and demanded he do something for them. He only hoped his brother had the good sense to alert David to the situation immediately so his team could rescue him.

"Oh, he already is," Shoes stated simply. "He just doesn't realize what he's working on or who it's for yet."

The statement caused Don's eyes to dart back to the computer screens with their NSA logo screensavers. The appearance of Suit at the end of the attack also flashed across his mind along with his earlier suspicions of just how much he looked like a federal agent, not to mention Charlie's strange behavior earlier. Charlie had been evasive, he now realized, as if he was trying to hide something. He'd thought it was something mathematical or which his brother didn't trust him with, but he hadn't considered the possibility that Charlie believed he _couldn't_ discuss it with him. That he'd been forbidden from doing so. The pieces came together and he clenched his jaw as he understood exactly what they were doing to his brother.

"He thinks it's an NSA consultation he's doing, doesn't he?"

"Yes, precisely."

"Then why am I here at all? It would have been better if you'd never involved anyone else."

"And left your brother none the wiser about what he'd done? Yes, it would have been and that's exactly what we'd originally hoped for, but we expect he'll start to get suspicious as he gets further into the work."

"Hence the need for some leverage," Don concluded, furious.

"Exactly," Shoes confirmed, glancing down at the agent's clenched fists. "As soon as it becomes apparent that he knows something isn't right, Agent Banner will pay him a little visit and inform him that we have you."

The helplessness he'd felt earlier when being handcuffed was back and Don yanked at the ropes binding his wrists down to the arms of the chair.

_Agent_ Banner.

The title confirmed his fears, there was a traitor involved in this whole mess, perhaps even more than one given all of the, no doubt, classified NSA material they possessed. Just how far did this treachery go? The mere thought of all the sensitive information the NSA had access to or kept stored within its computers nearly made him blanch. The damage that could be done to the country if some of that information fell into the wrong hands...

"What is it exactly that you want Charlie to do for you?"

"Ever the special agent," Shoes laughed, shaking his head. "Suffice it to say that what we want is extremely valuable to our client and he's willing to pay us handsomely for retrieving it."

Client. Oh, Don didn't like the sound of that.

He was going to press the matter further when the door with the locks opened and a man stepped into the room. He was of average height but not average weight, not with the bulging muscles on display in the wife beater he wore. His arms were also heavily inked in a disturbingly familiar mesh of designs and Don's eyes darted up to the man's face as dread coiled in his gut. His fears were confirmed as he met hard brown eyes set in a compact, square face topped with light brown hair that seemed to only just be recovering from having been shaved off entirely.

"Hello, Eppes, remember me?" Club demanded with a wicked grin as he stalked towards the bound man.

"Frazer," Don replied evenly, forcing down the flash of fear he felt.

His earlier suspicions of the man he'd dubbed Club wanting him dead were confirmed and he felt a chill race up his spine. The Frazer brothers had been one of the first Fugitive Recovery cases he and Coop had been assigned, and it was the one where he'd proven himself to the other man. The older agent hadn't been too pleased with getting assigned a permanent partner and had forced Don to prove his worth. He'd done so when they'd been ambushed by the Frazer brothers. Despite the younger one's appearance, the two had been jailed for high-end computer crimes and an almost successful attempt to hack into the Pentagon to steal information. The violent and bloody manner in which they'd tried to avoid arrest had sealed their fate when the cop they'd shot died in the hospital three days later of complications due to surgery.

Don had always thought that it was the older brother, George, who'd had the discipline and smarts necessary to plan and carry out their crimes while the younger one did more of the dirty work. Despite all that, George Frazer had seemed more than willing to get his hands dirty when he'd leveled a gun at Coop, so he'd had no choice but to shoot first, killing him. The younger brother, Darien, had flown at him in a rage, attempting to beat him to death and it had taken both Coop and himself to wrestle him down and handcuff him. Even then, once securely restrained, the man had hurled threat after threat at him, swearing vengeance and promising him a most painful death.

His blood ran cold as Don remembered some of the more creative options. How had Darien gotten out yet again? Why hadn't he been notified of his escape? The nature of his threats and the fact that Frazer kept issuing them long after he'd been returned to prison meant that an alert should have been added to his file. Don should have been informed the moment it was even suspected Frazer had escaped and yet he'd received no warnings at all.

"Made an impression, did I?" Frazer questioned as he stopped beside Don's chair. "Glad to see you're finally awake again, I was afraid I'd hit you too hard and ruined all the fun before I truly got started."

Although the words caused his gut to clench, Don maintained a bland expression on his face and met Frazer's gaze head on. He knew better than to show any kind of weakness in front of a man like this. Frazer would mercilessly exploit any opening he gave him.

"Here," Shoes said, interrupting the staring contest and holding out a length of cloth to Frazer. "Gag him so we can take the photos."

"What?" Don demanded as Frazer looked away and exchanged the Polaroid camera he held for the cloth.

"Just a little extra incentive for your brother," Shoes explained.

Don bit back the choice words he wanted to utter as he glared at the man. Given the blood he'd tasted on his lip earlier and the bruises he was sure to have from the attack, he knew Charlie wouldn't need any more incentives. Not with the additional blood that stained his shirt from where the knife had cut him. The thought angered him even more and he allowed the anger to grow as it helped dilute the fear he felt upon seeing the nearly manic expression on Frazer's face. He didn't even want to contemplate what the man might have in store for him. Would Shoes really be able to keep him in line? Frazer already seemed to hesitate before carrying out the other man's orders, for exactly how much longer would he obey at all?

Just as his face was grabbed and the cloth stuffed into his mouth, a new thought occurred to Don, one that chilled him to the core. What if Shoes didn't intend to keep curbing Frazer's actions? What if he was only delaying the fugitive until they had what they wanted from Charlie? What if he had no intention of letting Don go at all, no matter what Charlie did?

The thought had Don jerking his head forward even as Frazer attempted to tie the two ends of the cloth into a knot. The effort was futile and Don felt the cloth dig into the corners of his mouth as it was fastened beyond what was necessary to silence him. His tongue was trapped, nearly causing him to gag, but he fought it back down, not wanting to choke to death or inadvertently suffocate himself if they couldn't get the gag off in time.

"Now, that's what I call beautiful," Frazer laughed. "I want a photo, Keane, to keep as a souvenir."

"You can have as many as you want," Shoes replied with an irritated look. "Now, step back."

Keane. Don filed the name away with the rest of the information he'd collected about the man he'd dubbed Shoes. Despite how useful it would be to have a surname when conducting a search for the man, the fact that it had been uttered at all was yet another indicator of what he feared his fate would be. Not only did he know what they looked like, but now he had their names as well.

His eyes flashed dangerously as Don glared at Keane. They were setting Charlie up in a no win situation, the end result of which was sure to destroy his little brother. Charlie would never believe that the outcome had been fixed ahead of time, no matter who told him that. There would always be a part of him that would wonder if, had he been _better_, _smarter_, _faster_, would it have changed anything? Would it have saved his brother's life?

The soft click of the camera as it took its first shot went almost unnoticed by Don due to the fury and helplessness he felt. They were going to use him to do that to Charlie and there was not a damned thing he could do to stop them.

"Okay, now for the proof that we're deadly serious," Keane stated.

The words were addressed to Frazer and Don could do nothing as the fugitive pulled a revolver from the back of his waistband and cocked it. Adrenaline surged through him, causing his muscles to vibrate uselessly, restrained as he was, when the gun was turned on him. It was a particular style of gun, one where the bullets were visible to anyone unfortunate enough to be looking down the muzzle as he was. It was this added intimidation factor that made the revolver so popular among the more sadistic of criminals.

Don refused to be cowed by it and transferred his gaze instead to Frazer's eyes, meeting his glare head on despite the instinctive fear he felt at being on the wrong end of a gun. He could admit, to himself, that being able to see the bullet that could kill him did add an extra layer of intimidation to being held at gunpoint. He was not, however, going to let Frazer know that. It was a challenge not to flinch or show any additional reaction as the gun was brought up and pressed harshly against his temple, but he managed it. He was determined to make it as difficult as possible for Frazer to enjoy this.

Too late, Don remembered Keane and the camera and the man managed several shots before he could think about how it would look to Charlie.

"Excellent, these should do fine," Keane stated as he shook the photos. "Ungag him."

"Why?" Frazer demanded. "I like him like this. No smart remarks."

"Because there's a danger he'll choke or suffocate and we need him alive. Besides, it's not like he can cry for help."

Reluctantly, Frazer obeyed and Don resisted the urge to spit out the cloth as soon as it was loosened. If Frazer realized how much he disliked it, he'd probably push harder to be able to put it back on again.

"You're not planning on keeping your end of the deal," Don stated bluntly, looking Keane right in the eye. "You've no intention of letting me go, even if Charlie does everything you want him too."

"Release someone as dangerous as you? After all that you've seen of us and our operation? No, of course not," Keane replied matter-of-factly.

**

* * *

**

**In case you didn't notice, allow me to point out that his chapter takes place on _Friday_, the same night as the kidnapping. Charlie, however, doesn't get these pictures until _Sunday_, two whole days later. Who thinks Donny will be in the same condition then as in the photos taken now? Anyone?  
So, Shoes and Club have now both been identified, cookies to those who knew Club would be from Don's Fugitive Recovery days. Talk about bad blood, right? Hehe, in more ways that one!**


	6. Part II: Chapter 6

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Note_: Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing, it's really appreciated! Also, chapter 7 has already been sent off to the betas, so it should be up soon.

**

* * *

**

_**Part II: Don:** Fugitive Recovery_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 6:**_

**Friday, 22:32  
Basement, Unknown Location**

Despite the tone, Don almost thought he could detect faint traces of regret in the other man's eyes. It was gone a second later and he couldn't be sure he'd seen it or merely imagined it. Either way, Keane's statement made logical sense; Don was a serious liability to them. Not only had he seen far too much, but he was an investigator, specially trained to take in and retain details ordinary witnesses might miss or forget. The risk he posed to them was simply too great. From a tactical point of view, he could only agree with their strategy. It was the smartest thing to do.

The knowledge did nothing to ease the chill that swept through him or the fear it induced. He was going to die. Don refused to swallow or show any signs of a reaction but, given the way Frazer laughed, he wasn't sure he was successful. If it were to be a simple execution, that would be one thing, but he knew it wouldn't be, not with the fugitive's presence and their history. His eyes moved to Keane, accusingly, and he briefly saw another hint of regret before it was masked once more.

What could the man possibly have to regret? He seemed to be the one in charge, at least on the ground here. If he had operational control, surely he could arrange things as he wished as long as the end goals were accomplished. What difference did his means of execution make to anyone but Frazer? Why would it matter if it happened one way instead of another? Surely that could affect nothing, or could it?

"Let's get you settled for the rest of the night then, shall we?" Keane said.

"What? Already? But we haven't even had any real fun yet," Frazer complained. "Let me play with him a little first."

"No, there'll be time enough for that later. Besides, we don't want there to be too great a deterioration in his condition between the first set of photos Dr. Eppes receives and the second or he might do something rash."

"When are you giving him these?" Frazer questioned, clearly displeased.

"As soon as he starts to get too suspicious."

Don nearly sighed with relief upon hearing that. At least Charlie wouldn't get them just yet. Perhaps he could get himself out of this mess before that happened, then his little brother would never have to see them.

All thoughts of Charlie abruptly left Don as Keane pulled a medium black box out of one of the filing cabinets. When he opened it and pulled out a needle and syringe, Don's muscles tensed and he couldn't help but test the strength of the ropes and knots binding him down.

"What is that?" Don demanded when Keane picked up a bottle and filled the syringe.

"Just a little something to keep you asleep for the night so you don't cause us any trouble."

The statement was delivered in the same calm tone as his death sentence earlier, as if Keane was merely discussing a small matter of everyday business which, for him perhaps, it was. The thought did nothing to calm Don but all he could do was watch and glare as Keane approached him with the filled syringe.

"This will hurt less if you're not tensing your muscles like that," Keane stated.

"It would hurt even less if you don't administer it," Don shot back though he did try to relax the muscles of his left arm somewhat.

"True, but that's not going to happen." Keane had obviously done this before as the drug was administered quickly with no hesitation or failed attempts. "There, you should start to feel the effects pretty quickly."

"I still think I could have come up with a better way to ensure that he didn't cause us any trouble," Frazer insisted stubbornly.

"You'll have your chance soon enough," Keane repeated, not looking away from Don whom he was monitoring closely. "Once it fits the plan, not any earlier."

"Then let's show the professor the photos now, light a fire under him."

The suggestion angered Don and he wanted to open his mouth to protest, but found he couldn't. The lethargy which had started creeping over him immediately after the injection had strengthened and he had to fight to keep his eyes open, let alone speak.

"No, we stick to the plan. Just be thankful we brought you on board."

Keane's eyes were the last thing Don saw as he finally lost the battle against the drug and slumped forwards into the chair, unconscious.

**

* * *

**

**Saturday, 08:19  
Basement, Unknown Location**

Don was able to contain his groan of discomfort as he woke this time despite the veritable assault of unpleasant and painful stimuli that bombarded his senses. Of the most immediate concern to him was the fuzziness of his mind. He hated not being able to trust his own judgment and couldn't afford to be anything less than a hundred percent alert at the present if he was to have any hope of making it out of here alive. A daunting task given how little he knew of where he was being held or what was going on. Although Keane had been very forthcoming about some details, he'd wisely kept silent about others.

Of the other stimuli, his next biggest concern was the uncomfortable sensation of a full bladder. It was probably something that could be used to his advantage, Don mused. Given the proximity of what was clearly a workstation, he doubted Keane would want a mess, which meant untying him so that he could use a restroom. Not only would it mean he'd be free to move about, but he'd learn more about the layout of the building he was in. He'd have to be docile the first few times they allowed him out of the chair, learn what he could of the building and lull his captors into a false sense of security. Well, as much as he could anyway as he doubted they'd give him much leeway even if he became completely cooperative.

A quick assessment of the various pains he felt led Don to the conclusion that Keane had been able to keep Frazer away from him while he'd been under the drug's influence as he didn't seem to have acquired any new injuries. Some of his old injuries seemed to have gotten worse, though, as his left eye throbbed with every beat of his heart and he wasn't sure if it would open when he tried to do so. The cut along his ribs also seemed to burn more than it had last night and he couldn't help but wonder if it had gotten infected when he'd lain on the ground. Besides, who knew what he'd lain on for the journey here? He assumed he'd probably been dumped into the back of a van or large car of some sort, probably not the cleanest of surfaces either.

The soft almost rhythmic tapping of keys drew Don's attention to his surroundings. There was obviously someone else in the room using the computer, the question was, would there be anyone else present as well? Carefully, Don opened his eyes just enough so that he could see through his lashes, keeping his head perfectly still. As he'd feared, his left eye complained at the command, but he was able to open it and see. Not able to detect anyone nearby, he tilted his head slightly to the right and back so he could see the desk with all of its electronics. Someone was sitting in the chair, male from the looks of it, with long brown hair pulled into a ponytail.

A quick glance about the rest of the room proved it to be empty and Don allowed himself to open his eyes fully. Or at least he tried to, his left eye only making it about halfway before it refused to open any further. Leaving it for now, he studied what he could see on the screens before giving it up as a lost cause as everything appeared to be written in some type of computer code he couldn't make heads or tails of. With nothing else to observe and his bladder growing more uncomfortable, he figured it was time to make his consciousness known.

"What are you working on?"

The man froze, his shoulders stiffening. He remained that way long enough that Don nearly said something else before the man slowly turned the chair around and Don blinked in surprise. He was young, far younger than he'd expected, younger than Charlie and hardly older than a boy. Geek was the next thing that came to mind due to his clothes and the thick glasses he wore from behind which he looked at him with a slightly terrified expression. Don wasn't sure why the boy was afraid, given how well restrained he was.

"You're awake."

"Yeah," Don replied slowly.

What was with this guy? The boy's nervous manner and way in which he refused to make eye contact had Don's heart sinking. The behavior, the clothes, the computer equipment, classified documents and code.... was this one of the NSA's cryptographers or computer experts? He seemed to fit the profile. What on Earth was going on here? The NSA headquarters was supposed to be one of the most secure locations in the country. Could they really have this many traitors? First Banner and now this guy. What were Keane and this Blakely offering?

Or, his stomach dropped at the thought, exactly how much was this mystery client willing to pay for the information they were after? Given all that he'd seen so far and all of the risks they were taking, he could only imagine it was an insane amount of money. If that were true, then the information had to be really valuable.

"Eh..." the boy began, clearly not sure what to do.

"I need the bathroom," Don stated, hoping he could perhaps push him into making a mistake.

"Oh, yeah, sure."

Instead of getting up, coming over and untying him as Don had hoped, the boy turned back to his desk and grabbed a cell phone which he flipped open and pressed a speed dial on. It had been worth a shot, he reasoned and tried not to feel too disappointed.

"He's awake and needs the toilet," Geek said before listening to the reply and closing the phone. "They'll be right down."

"Kidnapping a federal agent is a very serious felony," Don stated, trying a different tactic.

The boy wasn't as hardened as Keane or Frazer and seemed like he might have something to loose if this all went South on them.

"I... I wasn't involved in that!" his voice rose into a high, fearful pitch.

"No, but by being here now, while they're holding me against my will, means you're an accessory after the fact. Before as well, if you had any prior knowledge of what they planned to do and did nothing," Don continued, pushing hard. There was fear in his eyes now. "Not to mention the fact that stealing from the NSA itself is another felony all on its own."

"I... I..."

The fear seemed to be bordering on the verge of panic and Don frowned. This was not what he'd been expecting. Yes, he'd thought the boy might not have fully realized what he'd been getting himself into, that his greed had gotten the better of him, but the reactions didn't fit. He was reacting like a cornered animal, his eyes darting about nervously as if desperately seeking a way out he knew didn't exist.

The door with the locks opened before Don could think about it any further and Frazer entered the room followed by the man Keane had identified as NSA Special Agent Banner. The sight of the man awoke his anger and he couldn't help but glare at him, wondering exactly how much he was getting for selling out his country. How much had it taken to buy his loyalties?

"Agent Eppes," Banner greeted as he approached, seeing he had the man's attention.

"Banner," Don spat out, refusing to use the title the man had so clearly forsaken and no longer deserved.

"I see someone has mentioned me already. I must admit to being somewhat surprised by you, you're not at all what I expected. Though, to be fair, I never would have pictured Charles to have a fed for a sibling."

"You. You're the one who's been in contact with Charlie."

"Of course, didn't Keane tell you? We know each other from before, back when he actually did some consulting work for the NSA."

So that's how they'd gotten his brother to believe that what he was working on was legit, Don realized. Charlie wouldn't have thought twice about it if he knew the agent who'd come to him. Despite his work for the NSA and the FBI, Charlie was still nave in a lot of ways about the things that went on behind the scenes at federal agencies and the international politics that influenced them. His reaction to Colby and the whole Janus situation had more than proved that. Not that it would have made much difference if Charlie was more aware of all of that in this case. It seemed like Banner still worked for the NSA, that he hadn't been uncovered as a traitor yet, so he'd have had his badge, ID and anything else necessary to back up his story just in case Charlie had demanded more proof.

Keane struck him as the type who'd be ready for all possible eventualities.

"Speaking of Dr. Eppes, how's he doing?" Banner demanded, turning towards the computer geek.

"He's still working on the problem."

A few quick keystrokes and the image on the monitors changed to show the inside of Charlie's office. Don's heart lurched as he watched his little brother on the screens. He was absently nibbling what appeared to be some toast as he paged through a folder with his free hand. His face was set in a very familiar mask of concentration.

"Good. Continue to monitor him closely and let me know when he starts to act differently."

"You don't have to do this," Don tried, not wanting to plead, but not wanting Charlie confronted with the photos Keane had taken either.

"No," Banner agreed pleasantly. "But there are a lot of reasons why I want to, about a million to be exact."

Don's breath caught at the number. A million. Surely the man had to be lying, Keane's client couldn't really be paying them so much that each was getting such a large payoff. If the client was, then the information they were after went beyond merely being valuable to being vital in some part to the country's defenses or other critical aspect. His eyes darted to Frazer, desperately seeking some sort of sign that Banner was lying but he was only met with an anticipatory look and bloodthirsty eyes.

"I, on the other hand, am really here for just one reason," Frazer declared. "As soon as Keane said I'd be allowed to kill you, I was on board, the rest, well the rest's just a bonus."

Don did his best not to show how the threat affected him, though it was difficult with the way his body reacted. The automatic fight or flight response left him with a lot of adrenaline floating about uselessly in his system, wearing him out as he fought against the tremors it wanted to generate.

"Who would have thought you'd end up giving me so much?"

"Let's get this over and done with, you have arrangements to see too," Banner interrupted.

"Yeah," Frazer replied reluctantly.

Not wanting to focus more of the fugitive's attention on him, Don decided it was better not to ask what that meant. No, now was the time to focus on how they were going to go about letting him out of the chair. The fact that both of them had come down for it was not promising and meant they were taking the threat his training and experience were very seriously. He couldn't bring himself to hate them for it, though, if those precautions were part of what had made them decide they could risk taking him instead of Dad. Even if it ultimately led to his death, anything that had helped keep his father far away from this basement was a good thing.

As he watched, Banner drew his gun and Frazer pulled a pair of handcuffs from his jeans pocket. Don fought back a sigh as he realized how little they were giving him to work with. Being both handcuffed and held at gunpoint meant he'd have practically no opportunities to escape or try anything at all. Which was most likely the point. Frazer snapped the first cuff tightly into place around his left wrist before pulling out his knife and cutting the rope that bound him to the chair. Going with his earlier decision to simply try and assess his surroundings this time around, Don didn't resist as the man moved his arm towards the other side of the chair and cuffed his right wrist. Once restrained in the metal bracelets, Frazer cut the ropes tying his remaining arm and legs to the chair.

"Up," Banner ordered, gesturing with his gun, a Glock, Don noted.

Carefully, Don complied, his muscles complaining not only from having been in one position for so long and because he'd essentially slept upright, but also because of the abuse they'd received yesterday. With his arms restrained in front of him, it was difficult to maintain his balance and he stumbled forwards a few steps before he managed to steady himself. Frazer laughed before he shoved him forwards, causing Don to fall to his knees.

"Not so tough now, are you Eppes? And I haven't even begun playing with you yet."

"Uncuff me and we'll see who comes out on top in a fair fight," Don retorted.

Unbalanced, cuffed and on his knees, Don was unable to avoid the knee to his gut and fell to the floor, breathless. He drew his own knees up to protect his stomach and hands, but Frazer went for his back, kicking him in the kidneys and causing him to arch his back as he cried out in pain despite his attempt not to.

"A fair fight?" Frazer hissed, furious, twisting his hand in Don's hair and pulling him up off the floor. "You didn't give my brother a fair fight!"

"He was armed," Don countered, trying to get his legs under him to support his weight. "And he was about to shoot my partner. I had no choice."

"Bet they called it a good shoot too," Frazer sneered. "Your partner deserved what was coming to him just as you'll get yours soon now. Once I'm done with you, perhaps I'll go pay your old partner a little visit as well, maybe take him a souvenir. Something to remember you by before I kill him. Bet he'd like that."

Horror, rage and fear clawed at Don, making the pain of being dropped back to the hard concrete floor barely noticeable. Coop! The concern for his friend made him scramble to his feet but he froze as Banner brought his gun up in warning. He settled for glaring at Frazer instead, swearing to himself that he'd stop the man before he had a chance to go after Billy. Focusing on that helped him keep his mind off of exactly what the man could mean about a 'souvenir.'

**

* * *

**

**Well, there, that's the final major character to be introduced: Geek. He shall remain nameless for a bit longer than the others as Donny's off a bit in lala land due to the drugs used on him, not thinking as clearly as he normally would.  
So, can anyone guess anything about where this is going?**


	7. Part II: Chapter 7

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  
**

* * *

_Note_: Thanks again for all of the reviews, they're really appreciated!

**

* * *

**

_**Part II: Don:** Fugitive Recovery_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 7:**_

**Saturday, 08:46  
Basement, Unknown Location**

"Door behind you on the left," Banner instructed.

Warily, Don turned so he could see the door but also keep an eye on Frazer at the same time. As he'd feared, it wasn't the door with the locks, so it looked like he wouldn't be learning too much about the layout of the building he was in. The cuffs made it slightly difficult to open the door, but he managed it, revealing a small windowless room with a toilet, washbasin, mirror and nothing else apart from a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. The room had obviously been carefully checked and cleared of anything that could be used as a weapon or means of escape. Even the mirror, which could technically be used to cause some damage under the right circumstances, appeared to be glued to the wall. It was therefore no surprise to him that they let him pull the door shut behind him.

Not wanting to give Frazer any time to give in to temptation, Don took care of business as quickly as he could with his hands cuffed before he stopped to look at his face in the mirror. As he'd feared, his left eye was bruising spectacularly though it didn't look like it would puff shut on him entirely. He'd managed to move his head enough so the punch wasn't as successful as it might otherwise have been. He also had an assortment of cuts and scrapes, most no doubt from the pavement, scattered across his face and his upper lip was slightly swollen. His skin was paler than normal, making every injury stand out along with the stubble on his cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes.

Charlie was going to get a nasty shock.

Don's fists clenched at the thought even as he hoped the bruising around his left eye had not yet fully developed at the time of the photos. It was little consolation and would only make the shock of any subsequent photos Charlie might receive that much worse. The helplessness welled up in Don again as he stepped back to the door, not wanting Frazer to come at him in the small space. There had to be something he could do! In a way, what they were planning to do to his little brother amounted to torture, psychological torture true, but torture nonetheless. Charlie already wasn't able to deal with emotions very well, something like this... it would be unbearable for him.

When Don stepped back into the main room of the basement, he was pleasantly surprised to find Frazer gone, though Keane was there to take his place.

"Good morning, Agent Eppes," Keane said politely, his eyes giving him a once over. "Back to your chair and then you can have some breakfast."

The tone and offer of food were so surprising, so jarring, after the violence from earlier and the matter-of-fact confirmation of his planned execution, that Don could only stare at the man for a moment before he moved back towards his chair as ordered. Banner was still watching him too closely for him to try anything and he knew Keane would be able to get at his Beretta before he'd covered even half the distance to him.

The man moved like someone who'd been highly trained and Don knew he'd have lightning quick reflexes. He was either a former law enforcement officer of some sort himself or military, though he'd put his money on the latter. It explained why he'd been so surprised to see Keane's longish hair when he'd first gotten a good look at him at CalSci. He supposed it made sense, though, as this haircut allowed for a quick change in style if necessary and didn't scream military the way regulation hair did. Some of the special forces teams wore their hair like this for those very same reasons.

Once he was seated, Banner moved in closer so he could better cover Don but he carefully stayed out of striking distance. Keane then retied his legs and left hand to the chair. That done, the man undid the cuffs before stepping aside and picking up a tray from the floor next to the chair and placing it on his lap. All the while, Don was aware of the quick, furtive looks the NSA cryptologist sent their way. There was fear on his face along with a strange mixture of horror, dread and helplessness.

Not what you signed on for? Don wanted to snarl at him unsympathetically. Well, too bad. Normally he might have a bit more compassion or pity for the man, but not now. Not while he sat around and did nothing but play along with Keane as they worked to set up Charlie. _That_ he could not forgive, just like he'd never been able to forgive his physics teacher in high school who'd allowed her fear of a student to prevent her from stepping in and stopping the kid from pushing Charlie around. His grades had suffered as he'd been so focused on being angry at her that he hadn't really been paying attention to what she'd actually been saying.

The breakfast tray consisted of a plate with dry toast, a bowl of what appeared to be instant oatmeal that someone hadn't gotten quite right and a glass of water. Don eyed the food suspiciously before turning his attention to Keane.

"What, no scrambled eggs or orange juice? I want my money back and will complain to the national hotel ratings system, you don't deserve the half star you got."

"I do regret not meeting you under other circumstances," Keane said with a smile. "I think I might well have enjoyed knowing you."

"I'd say it's mutual, but I'd be lying," Don stated, trying to decide whether or not he should risk eating the food.

Keane laughed before he tilted his head, studying his prisoner. "Don't be so sure, we have more in common than you think."

Don thought about replying to that before he chose to simply ignore the remark in favor of the toast. While it was true that the oatmeal could easily be drugged, they'd already proven they were more than willing to administer drugs to him in the traditional way and he'd prefer to ingest anything they wanted him to take instead of letting them near him again with a needle. Not only was it safer, he didn't want to risk them using a dirty needle just in case he managed to escape. Besides, if he wanted any chance of getting out of here, he needed to keep up his strength which meant food and there was no telling when they might decide to feed him again, especially considering he was essentially a dead man to them.

"What, no comment, Agent Eppes? No denial? Or perhaps you can see the similarities between us?"

"Like what?" Don asked, thinking he might get some more information on the man. "Me, FBI. You, former military, special forces if I'm not mistaken. Opposite sides of the law now."

The oatmeal didn't immediately taste of anything untoward, not that it was proof of anything.

"The last hardly matters, besides, you've taken liberties with the law on more than one occasion yourself when it suited your needs," Keane pointed out, suddenly shifting his attention to Banner. "You can go, I'm fine here."

"I'll go check in then," Banner said, holstering his sidearm.

"Let me know of any relevant chatter you hear."

"Will do."

"That was different," Don countered, watching Banner go.

"What, it's okay for agents to bend or break the law? I don't think so. You may have justified it to yourself that way, but the fact remains you're willing to cross that line under the right circumstances."

"_Was_ willing, key word being was. Not anymore."

"You really believe that," Keane observed, thoughfully. "So, you're saying if history was to repeat itself and one of your agents was taken once more, you wouldn't allow Edgerton to extract information from a reluctant suspect who knows it? You'd risk your agent's life this time around?"

The question was one that had plagued Don on many a sleepless night since that fateful day along with all of the regrets he'd had since. He definitely didn't want to go there again, once had nearly destroyed him, but could he not do it if it meant one of his agents might die as a result? He just didn't know.

"I thought not," Keane continued, taking the silence as confirmation. "It's a slippery slope, Eppes, and once you start down it... well you know."

"I'm not going to end up a vigilante."

"You caught a few people's eye with that little stunt with your agent. And not in a bad '_he needs to be stopped or brought in line_' kind of way either."

"What are you talking about?" Don demanded sharply, the room doing a slow spin as he jerked his head up to look at Keane.

Damn. The oatmeal had been drugged after all.

"Oh, didn't you know? Turns out several organizations liked what they saw in your drive to bring that Hoyle woman to justice. The end justifies the means type. I think you disappointed quite a few of them when you seemed to fall back in line during your therapy."

The sneer at the end made it more than clear what Keane thought of him having seen Bradford, but Don found he didn't care. He knew a lot of people looked down on that sort of thing, he'd done so himself before, but he couldn't argue with the results. It had helped him, tremendously, when nothing else had, he would admit to that and, surprisingly, not just to himself.

No, what Don didn't like were the implications of what else Keane was saying. It could all be a lie, the drugs weren't messing with his mind that much just yet, but if it were true... Don wasn't sure he really wanted to contemplate that. He wasn't so nave as to think that sort of behind the scenes illegal operations didn't exist, but the mere thought that the people involved had even _looked_ at him for that type of thing bothered him deeply. Just when he thought he'd come to terms with what he'd done, what he'd been willing to do, it came back to haunt him yet again. Just like when Buck had escaped.

How could they possibly _think_ he'd even be interested, much less consider that type of thing? Surely one mistake, okay a few mistakes, didn't tip him into _that_ category of people; those who blatantly disregarded the law and the founding principles on which the legal system stood. Okay, so what if he'd stepped outside the straight and narrow a little? It's not like he hadn't made his dislike of those who always did it abundantly clear as well. He had that complaint in his file from the CIA on behalf of Agent Raymond whom he'd punched for revealing he'd strung Don and his team along to help set up such a program. Or, more recently, how he'd turned in a fellow FBI agent for playing fast and loose with the law to capture a thief.

The thoughts started to blur and fade in Don's mind as the drug swam through his system, sending him slowly into oblivion. The last thing he was aware of was his right hand being tied down and the weight of the tray being removed from his lap.

"You really are more like me than you want to admit," Keane's words chased him into the darkness.

**

* * *

**

**Sunday, 16:34  
Basement, Unknown Location**

The shock of ice-cold water splashing across his face snapped Don into awareness as he sputtered for air.

"Ah, there you are, thought that might wake you."

Even with the sudden adrenaline dump to his system, it took an enormous amount of effort for Don to focus his mind enough to glare at the man who'd spoken.

Frazer, he realized as the voice clicked with the face in his sluggish mind. What was wrong with him? Oh, yeah, Keane, breakfast, oatmeal, drugs. Drugs to control him. Drugs to knock him out. Drugs which probably still would have him unconscious but for Frazer's impatience. Frazer... he'd just remembered why the man's sudden wake-up call might be a bad thing when he was slapped across the face, hard.

"Oh, no you don't, I've waited long enough, you're staying with me."

That alone was enough to make him wish the drugs weren't so strong, so he'd have his wits about him as it seemed like he'd need them. Or stronger, so Frazer wouldn't be able to force him awake.

"Go away, I'm sleeping," Don mumbled.

A roar of rage was followed by a fist to the gut that had Don doubling over as far as he could even as the chair wobbled backwards dangerously. Briefly he thought it was going to tip over and send him spilling to the concrete floor before it dropped forwards once more onto all four legs.

With an effort, Don forced his eyes open as far as they'd go and glared at the fugitive. The man glared back at him, his face twisted with rage, a cigarette held loosely in one hand. The expression on his face was enough to wake him a bit further as fear coiled in his gut. A quick glance around showed only the computer geek was about and he seemed to be doing his best to fade into the background, so no help from there. Briefly he wondered where Keane was before dismissing the thought. The man had promised to execute him as soon as he had what he wanted from Charlie, it was ridiculous to even think about relying on him for protection. Still, the man clearly wanted him alive for the time being, which was better than nothing, but he didn't seem to be around. So it looked like he was on his own for this one, which didn't bode well for him. He could only hope Frazer remembered, and cared enough, about the payoff not to kill him as there'd be nothing he could do to stop him.

The helplessness flashed through him once more, hurting him more than any of the physical pain was able to. If it were just him that would be one thing, he could deal with failing himself, but it wasn't just him. It was Charlie as well who was at risk here. Although his little brother had improved significantly since their mother's death, Don doubted any amount of improvement would be enough to prevent Charlie from slipping into his beloved P vs. NP if he thought he were responsible for his brother's death. Then, if that happened, Dad would be alone. So it wasn't just himself at stake here, but his whole family. He simply _had_ to find a way out of this mess alive and he had to do it himself.

From Banner's short chat with Geek, it seemed like Charlie hadn't seen the photos yet, which meant he was still oblivious to what had transpired. On the one hand, Don was very thankful for that as he didn't want his brother to know and to worry about him. On the other hand, however, it meant he was on his own here, for the present anyway. He'd been planning to surprise Robin with an unexpected weekend out of town, but to that end he'd told her nothing, simply arranged everything with her assistant. So, as a result, Robin wasn't expecting him and neither was anyone else. Unless Charlie got too suspicious to continue working on whatever it was that Keane and this Blakely wanted, it could well be that no one would even realize anything was wrong until he failed to show up for work on Monday morning. Even then, it would take time before anyone fully understood what was going on and an investigation was started.

He was completely on his own for the time being, Don realized with a jolt of horror and fear. Helpless, alone and completely at the mercy of a man who hated his guts and wanted him to suffer long and hard before finally having the pleasure of killing him.

**

* * *

**

**Which method of tormenting Don do you prefer? Keane's psychological approach or Frazer's pure physical attack style? I'm just curious, it won't affect what's to come as that will be a mix of the two.**


	8. Part II: Chapter 8

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Note_: Wow, I'm blown away by the number of people who have added this fic to their _Story Alert_s, thanks!

**

* * *

**

_**Part II: Don:** Fugitive Recovery_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 8:**_

**Sunday, 16:45  
Basement, Unknown Location**

Another slap to the face brought Don back to the present and he blinked owlishly at Frazer as he tried to bring his scattered thoughts back to the present. The man frowned at him, clearly displeased by his lack of attention span. So, he wanted a captive audience, did he? Well, that was just too bad for him, Don thought as his eyes slid closed. He wished he could just slip back into the thoughtless and dreamless embrace of the narcotics simply because it would piss off Frazer.

He must have had his wish granted for a few seconds as the next thing Don was aware of was a sharp pain in his right arm. He jerked his head up off his chest to find a needle embedded in the limb. As he watched, Frazer started depressing the plunger on the syringe attached to the needle and the amber colored liquid inside was expelled into his body. It burned as soon as it hit his system and he gritted his teeth to prevent any sound of pain from escaping him.

"What the hell was that?" Don demanded hotly once he was sure he had control of himself.

The pain seemed to be receding and all he could feel was a warmth as it entered his bloodstream and spread to the rest of his body.

"A little something one of Keane's friends brought. It's from this Blakely dude," Frazer explained, a huge grin on his face. "Don't know the name, don't care."

So he was using it purely for one of its effects, probably didn't even know all of the other side effects. Don resisted the urge to close his eyes in resignation, he wouldn't give Frazer that satisfaction no matter how little he knew of what was now in his system or what damage it could do to him.

"Let's see if we're ready to start this," Frazer said impatiently, circling round to stand behind him.

He hadn't paid it much notice earlier, but the chair he was tied to had an open back, something Don felt now as the fugitive's hand came to rest on his lower back, just above where he'd been kicked yesterday.

"Ready?" Frazer asked, then jabbed him in the kidney, hard.

Don yelped loudly, as much in surprise as in pain, as the bruise screamed its complaints at him. What the hell? Yes, the area was sensitive and, yes, it should hurt, but not like this! It took him a few seconds to realize that the second drug he'd been given was a pain enhancer. Don clenched his fists and choked down the other cries that welled up within him as Frazer laughed aloud and viciously prodded the area some more, obviously looking for a repeat performance.

The pain swirled in his already clouded mind, giving everything a hazy, half real quality and Don desperately wished for the blissful embrace of unconsciousness once more though he knew Frazer was only just getting started.

"Still determined to act tough, huh?" Frazer questioned as he moved around to stand in front of his victim once more.

Frazer simply observed him for a few moments and Don wondered what he saw. He was clearly enjoying it, so he feared his control was starting to slip under the dual assault of the drugs. Slowly, the fugitive leaned forwards and it took all of his concentration to still the instinctive impulse to recoil. When Frazer stopped, their faces were inches apart and Don could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath. As if sensing the thought, the fugitive brought his cigarette up, the burning end nearly skimming his stubble, and took a long drag. The blast of smoke in his face was expected, but Don allowed himself to cough and continued to do so longer than necessary. It wasn't so bad and if he could keep Frazer entertained with that, it meant more time he wasn't actively being hurt.

It worked for a few more minutes before Frazer gave into temptation and dragged the lit end of the cigarette along his cheek. He didn't press it against the skin, just skimmed it across, but the drug took care of the rest, resulting in a fiery trail across the side of his face. Still, Don managed to resist voicing the pain, though his eyes watered as the smoke irritated them. The pain visible in his eyes must have been enough for now, though, as Frazer pulled back slightly and traced the cigarette down his throat, causing him to freeze and not swallow, to the edge of his shirt before returning it to his mouth.

"I'd have thought you would have kicked that habit in prison," Don said as a distraction when Frazer grabbed his shirt in both hands and ripped it open, buttons flying everywhere. "What'd you have to do to get them? Trade yourself?"

Frazer's smile twisted into a snarl instantly and his hand flew upwards, striking Don in the face. His head snapped sideways and he tasted blood in his mouth. A quick probe with his tongue found a cut on the inside of his cheek where his teeth had cut it.

"You're just begging for it, aren't you? Like pain, do you? Well, you're going to get _a lot_ of it before I let you die. So much that you'll be begging me to kill you."

"Don't count on it," Don declared, spitting at him.

It was really quite amazing how red Frazer's face could go without exploding, Don thought as he moved his head along with the expected blow, thereby reducing the force of it significantly. Maybe, if he was lucky, the man would keel over from a heart attack if he kept this up. The idea seemed funnier than it should and he cursed the haze in his mind.

"Sooner or later, I'm going to stumble across something you really don't like and then I'm going to dig in and rip you apart with it," Frazer hissed, his eyes wild.

Terror, pure and simple, gripped Don as he looked into those eyes. Frazer was no longer fully sane, he realized with a jolt. Oh, he'd known there was something not quite right with him, but this wasn't just a little over the edge, this was completely insane. It reminded him of what he'd seen in the eyes of that psychopath whose interrogation he'd watched as a rookie in Detroit. Only, this time, he was the focus of that madness. His pulse quickened as he recalled the photos of that one's victims, they literally were torn apart while still alive. It had nearly caused him to loose his lunch, just from the crime scene photos.

"'Cause you obviously don't mind this too much," Frazer said as he dragged his cigarette down Don's chest, purposefully crossing the inflamed path his knife had traced the other day. "Or guns. Well, at least not so you actually show fear."

His breath was coming out in short gasps as Don tried to clear the haze from his mind as his chest now chimed in with all of his other injuries, clamoring for attention. He noticed some movement behind Frazer and briefly glanced over to see Geek splitting his attention between the screens and what was happened behind him, eyes wide with horror and disgust. The guy looked like he might faint or be sick, but Don dismissed him as Frazer stamped out the cigarette and drew his revolver.

"I doubt Keane will be pleased if you injure me enough to require a trip to the hospital," Don said, hoping to remind the man that there was more going on here than his lust for revenge.

"There are places I can put a bullet that don't require immediate medical attention," Frazer countered though he spun the gun in his hand so he held it by the barrel.

Before Don could do more than wonder what was going to happen next, Frazer smashed the butt of the revolver down on his left hand and he screamed at the resulting agony that lanced through him. His vision went white, then black as the amber drug doubled and tripled the pain, his mind briefly sending him into oblivion before the pain pulled him back and he felt fingers feeling along the bones of his hand.

"Bastard," Don spat out, unthinkingly.

"Nope," Frazer replied cheerfully, clearly in good humor now that he'd gotten the reaction he'd wanted. "Oh, yeah, definitely got some broken bones there."

Don cursed as his vision started to fade out again at the continued abuse, but he didn't actually black out.

"Eh... excuse... me."

It took Don a moment to place the voice as that of Geek, though the nervousness should have given it away instantly.

"What?" Frazer snapped.

"I... He... Uh... Dr. Eppes... I think he... knows something isn't right."

Don struggled to clear his vision and looked towards the monitors, watching a dozen images of Charlie pacing back and forth in front of his blackboard while glancing at a file in his hand. The frustration and consternation were clear on his face and Don felt his heart sink as he realized that this was what Keane had feared. Charlie now knew something was wrong and would be given the ultimatum and photos to ensure his cooperation from this point on.

There was a small part of Don that rejoiced at the idea as it meant he wouldn't be on his own in this anymore. Once Charlie knew, he'd tell David and the team and they'd start looking for him. All he had to do now was hang on for a rescue. The rest of him was horrified, but that small part remained, knowing he wasn't going to get out of this on his own.

The flash of a camera brought him back to the present and Don found Frazer holding the Polaroid. The man took a few more photos before putting the camera away in the filing cabinet. Don noticed how Geek shied away from Frazer just as the door to the basement opened and Keane walked in followed by Banner.

"Is it time?" Keane demanded, his eyes falling on Don as he approached the desk. They hardened before looking towards Frazer.

"Nothing life threatening," Frazer stated, holding out one of the photos. "Maybe you wanna give this to the professor too."

"Perhaps tomorrow," Keane said, glancing at it. "We have the ones we want to show him now. No use sending him into a trauma induced number trance, if he looses himself in one of those, we're never going to get the answers we want."

They knew about Charlie and P vs. NP, Don concluded as he tried to fight off the increasing haze in his mind. Now that Frazer wasn't actively torturing him anymore, the first drug was trying to drag him under again. There was no way that it could still be so strong given the length of time since breakfast, not without a top up. So much for avoiding being jabbed again with more needles.

"Well?" Keane demanded of Geek.

"It's time," Banner replied instead. "He's getting agitated."

"Go, let him know what's really going on and give him the photos. Be careful, though."

"Don't worry. I know how to handle him, I've done it before."

The tone set Don's teeth on edge and he glared at Banner's back as the man disappeared.

"Get that shirt off of him before he catches a cold," Keane ordered as he noticed the shivers that racked Don's frame from the cold water still soaking his upper body.

As Don turned to face Keane, there was a snick of a blade jumping out and a flash of silver. Between the drugs, pain and memories, Don reacted instinctively, violently flinching away from the knife that entered his view before he froze, horror and terror coiling in his gut as it hit him what he'd just done. Despite his earlier determination not to show any weaknesses to Frazer, that was exactly what he'd just so unthinkingly done. Not even fifteen minutes ago, the fugitive had mentioned wanting to uncover what it was that he feared and he'd just given it to him on a silver platter.

Almost against his will, Don's eyes were drawn to Frazer's face and the triumphant and manic smile he wore.

"So," Frazer stated, victory and anticipation in his voice. "It's knives you don't like, eh? I can work with that. Like I said before, I bet you'd look real pretty covered in blood."

**

* * *

**

**Well, there we go, the last chapter of Part II. For Part III we jump back to Charlie and his point of view. Then there will be Part IV, Alan's pov, before we come back to Don for Part V. Not that there won't be more beyond that (this fic has run away from any and all control I may one have once had over it!).  
For those of you interested, the entire notepad file I have for this fic is nearly 42,000 words at present and only a few pages shy of 100! Just over half of that has already been posted. Who knows what the final word and page count will be? This month is turning into an early NaNo for me so far.  
So, now Frazer knows of Don's new fear of knives from the stabbing. Can you guess where I'm going with this given that I've already said I'm gonna combine physical and psychological whump?**


	9. Part III: Chapter 9

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Note_: I'd like to apologize for this chapter being so late. Real life conspired against both me and one of my betas consecutively. In the end it isn't such a bad thing as I waffled back and forth over the length of this chapter because I didn't think I had enough for 4 Charlie chapters but then realized I did after all. Things got moved about a bit and thus it's good that this chapter didn't go up any sooner.

**

* * *

**

_**Part III: Charlie: **CalSci_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 9:**_

**Monday, 09:56  
Dr. Charles Eppes' Office, CalSci**

Charlie was focusing so deeply on the problem that the loud ringing of his cell caused him to jump. He'd specially altered the ring tone last night and upped the volume as high as it could go so that there would be no way he could miss a call. Much as he'd like to put it off, he did not want to be unreachable when someone from Don's team finally called. He didn't want to risk David coming over or sending one of the others to speak to him; it was simply easier to deal with the matter over the phone. The other reason he wanted to know the instant someone wanted to talk to him was because, against all odds, he feared he might miss a call from his brother. Either to say that he was fine and it was all some terrible scheme concocted by a group of criminals or to let him know that he'd escaped.

Charlie nearly laughed hysterically at the thought. Even now, despite everything that had happened recently or the photos depicting the grim and impossible situation Don now found himself in, he still expected his brother to be able to get out of it on his own. On some level, he still saw him as able to do anything, even if he no longer thought of him as being invincible.

His eyes darted automatically to the now empty spot where he'd taped the photos last night and looked at them throughout the evening. He had taken them down several hours ago in order to prevent anyone from seeing them should they catch him by surprise. So far no one had, but it wasn't a risk he was willing to take, not with Don's life at stake.

"Hello?" Charlie said as he answered the phone, impossible hope swelling within him despite his best efforts to quell it.

"Charlie, it's David."

The disappointment was so bad Charlie could almost taste it and he had a flash of the same despair he'd felt when Banner had shown him the first photo. It was as if this call was confirmation that the past few hours weren't simply part of some horrible nightmare he'd soon wake from.

_Don!_

"Hey, David," Charlie said, hoping he didn't sound as disappointed as he thought he did. "What can I do for you? If you guys need help with a case, then I don't think I can do that just now, I'm working on something else that's extremely urgent."

Despite wanting to concentrate solely on the problem, Charlie had spent a bit of time around dawn figuring out what he was going to say to Don's team when they called. In the end, he'd decided that, if he could, he'd get this information in before they could inform him about Don's disappearance. That way he could pretend that the stress and anguish were driving him deeper into it as a P vs. NP substitute.

"No, no, nothing like that," David responded, hesitating slightly. "It's just- have you heard from Don today?"

"Don?" Charlie tried for surprise, but it came out more distracted than anything else, which he hoped would also work. "No, I've been working on this problem since the end of last week. I haven't seen Don since he stopped by Friday evening. Why?"

"He came by CalSci Friday evening?"

"Yeah, he dropped off a file around seven that he wants me to look at for Howard," Charlie explained, not missing how David was not quite telling him that Don was a no show for work and that it was starting to worry people.

Normally he'd be angry at the lack of direct communication, but now he was thankful for it. If David and the others wanted to hold off informing him that his brother was officially missing and they suspected foul play, then he'd use that precious time to his advantage. It meant more time for him to work on the problem without needing to worry what they were thinking about his seeming lack of worry about Don or his inability to help them search for him. Still, he couldn't appear to be too unconcerned either and if he could give David something to work with, just in case he couldn't get this problem solved fast enough, then so much the better.

"Why? Is he running late?" Charlie teased. "Maybe you should call Robin, see if they actually came back from their little weekend trip. Who knows? Maybe they eloped together, Dad would really love that."

"Don was going on a trip?" David questioned, clearly surprised.

"Yeah, at least I think so. It's the impression I got from what he said."

"Can you remember exactly what that was?"

"Just that he had plans but that I wasn't supposed to tell Robin that as he wanted to surprise her."

"Ah, okay, thanks," David stated. "I think I'll do as you say and give Robin a call."

"No problem," Charlie did his best to sound lighthearted, he really did. "Besides, it gives me something to bring up next time Don complains about me being late."

Did David's laugh really sound forced or was that merely his imagination? Charlie wasn't sure and it was with relief that he said his goodbyes and hung up, slumping into his chair. Almost against his will, his hands reached for the drawer where he'd put the photos of Don and opened it. He picked up the two Polaroids with shaking hands and studied them once more, though he'd long since memorized them. Somehow holding them, being able to _feel_ them in his hands, made a difference. It made it more real, especially now that he knew David and the others were also aware that something was amiss. He wasn't sure how seriously they were taking it just yet, after all, Don _had_ been late before, but it meant the situation was real.

Until just now, Charlie hadn't realized how much he'd held onto the crazy hope that this whole thing was somehow a bizarre nightmare concocted by his exhausted and traumatized mind. It had been a bad few months and he wouldn't put it past his mind to start playing tricks on him. He'd already had enough nightmares about what had happened to first Don and then Amita, so it was only a matter of time before the two started merging and creating new material for his subconscious to play with. If it weren't so personal and bad, he'd be leaping to analyze it all for his Cognitive Emergence work, but he'd found he couldn't concentrate on the math. Not when his mind kept wanting to delve into 'what if' territory which he really didn't want to explore.

Charlie forced himself to put the photos back into the drawer and close it. He'd wasted enough time already staring at them, time that was far better spent on working on the problem whose successful cracking would get his brother free.

**

* * *

**

**Monday, 14:09  
Dr. Charles Eppes' Office, CalSci**

"Dad," Charlie said in surprise as he returned to his office to find his father inside.

He'd left for just a few minutes to go to the bathroom and get a drink, so his father couldn't have been here long. Definitely not long enough to start snooping about and discover the photos he'd so foolishly left in his desk drawer. He wouldn't be making that mistake again, most people wouldn't start looking through his things, but it was a risk he was unwilling to take given the stakes. Even a glimpse of those photos would be enough to raise some uncomfortable questions that he'd have no way of answering without endangering his brother's life. That was if they didn't kill Don outright for his carelessness.

Instead of snooping about, his father seemed to have collapsed into the small area of his couch that wasn't completely covered in papers. Charlie swallowed as he realized that one of the folders Banner had given him was closed, clearly displaying the NSA logo on the front for the world to see. If it had been David, Colby or Nikki stopping by instead of his father...

"Charlie," Alan said hoarsely as he looked up.

Charlie nearly gasped as he got a good look at his father's face. He suddenly looked far older than normal and his face was lined with worry and grief. Knowing where this was going to go, he forced himself to turn away and approach his desk instead. There was no way he'd be able to lie to his father; he had trouble doing it with innocuous stuff, with something like this it would be completely impossible. Therefore he had to avoid a confrontation altogether, luckily he knew exactly how to do that.

"Charlie."

What he'd been trying before had reached a clear dead end, so he had to go back and figure out where he'd gone wrong. Once he knew that, Charlie knew he'd be able to do it right this time. In doing it wrong, though, he'd actually noticed something important about the algorithm that he hadn't been aware of before, so the time he'd spent chasing a false lead wasn't totally wasted. It would have been better if he hadn't gone as far as he had, but still, it was better than nothing.

"Charlie, we need to talk."

"Later, I'm busy right now."

For the first time in a long time, Charlie found his mind had suddenly gone completely blank of numbers. He stood in front of the board with his chalk poised just millimeters above the slate but there was nothing to write. His thought from seconds ago had vanished like mist in sunlight at his father's voice. Where he could normally tune out other people quite easily, even subconsciously, when on a roll, now he was hyperaware of his father's presence in the room and it was all he could think of. Well, that and what would be done to his brother if anyone learned what had happened to him. The image of the gun pressed so viciously against Don's head that the skin around it blossomed white, flashed before his eyes and his fingers tightened on the chalk, nearly crushing it in his grip.

With a concentrated effort, Charlie forced his fingers loose again and started writing nonsense on the board. Oh the numbers and symbols were all math related, but the equations meant absolutely nothing, mixing algebra with geometry and calculus in a hopeless jumble of figures. Not only did it give his hand something to do, but it would help convince his father that he was in another of his mathematics zone outs as he'd once heard Don refer to them.

"It's about Don."

The words stopped Charlie dead in his tracks and he swallowed hard, closing his eyes and bending his head forwards as the urge to turn around and tell his father everything rose within him. He struggled desperately to fight it down, though it was difficult to do so when all he wanted was to share this burden with someone. To have someone tell him that it would be okay and that Don was going to fine.

'_If we even suspect that you've been talking with anyone about what you know, or that you've shown the photos to any of your dear brother's colleagues, he will be the one to suffer the consequences._'

Banner's words echoed in his mind and Charlie nearly flinched at the thought of what those consequences might be. No matter how much it would help him to know that he wasn't alone in this, that others knew exactly what was going on and were working to save Don, he wouldn't risk his brother's life like that. If he was correct in thinking that Banner and those he worked with were monitoring his office, then it was a potential death sentence to inform his father of what was going on even if he could convince him not to tell anyone else.

Besides, in this case Charlie wasn't sure that knowing the truth wasn't worse than not knowing anything at all. He didn't think Dad would react well to knowing that Don was currently being tortured and there was nothing he could do about it as he didn't possess the right math skills. Even with the necessary knowledge and skills, it felt like he wasn't really able to help his brother any. It sure seemed like was getting nowhere and that was when he was actually able to focus on the damn problem.

What had his line of thought been again?

"Charlie!" Alan said sharply when Charlie continued writing nonsense on the board.

"Sorry, I'm gonna loose this line of thought if I don't follow it now."

"This is more important than that. It's about your brother!"

His father's hurt and anger cut into Charlie like a knife, but he forced himself to continue scribbling away on the board. He wasn't even sure what he was writing now, trusting his subconscious to make it look math related so his father wouldn't get suspicious. This was a hundred times more difficult that he'd thought it would be, but he literally had no choice. He _had_ to do it, he had to hurt their father in order to save his brother. He was sure that Dad would understand and even accept it if only he knew the truth. Both of them would do anything for the chance to help protect Don if it was within their power to do so. He'd just never thought it could involve hurting his father.

"Charlie!"

Suddenly Charlie felt hands on his arms and he was spun around, the chalk in his outstretched hand nearly poking his father in the face. He could only stare, wide-eyed and flabbergasted, at the completely unexpected and unprecedented move. Well, at least coming from his father. His face crumpled as he recalled Don trying the same thing as a last ditch attempt to reach him during their mother's illness. That was before he'd given up and stopped trying...

"Charlie," Alan said softly, pleadingly, bringing his hands up to his son's face.

"I- I can't," Charlie whispered, not meeting his father's eyes, hating how small and broken his voice sounded. "I need to... I have to... the numbers, the math-"

"Charlie, no, please. I need you, Don needs you. Please."

The words stabbed at Charlie like knives and he desperately gasped for air, a strangled moan escaping him as his eyes tracked involuntarily back to the drawer.

'_I _am_ doing what Don needs me to do!_' Charlie silently screamed at his father, willing him to understand.

The whine that escaped him next was so entirely unexpected, to him as much as his father, that Charlie was released, his father stepping back a pace in response. Not able to stand facing the older man's reaction or emotions, he turned around once more, his hand taking on a life of its own. It took a few moments for Charlie to realize that the compulsive scribbling wasn't as random and meaningless as it had been before.

All at once his mind was swamped with numbers, as if his brain had been dunked into a vat filled with them. They were all around him, a thick miasma of expressions, equations and algorithms, flashing by at impossible speed and spurring him on. He suddenly recalled exactly what he'd planned to do and knew where he'd gone wrong. It was simple really, a stupid mistake he never should have made to begin with. If he just went back and took z to be a zero instead of a variable with a real value, then it would change everything.

Charlie was so engrossed in the math that his father's pleas and other attempts to return his attention to the present went completely unnoticed, nor did he hear the slamming of his office door when Alan finally threw in the towel and stormed out, furious and distraught.

**

* * *

**

**If you go to my LJ journal and have a look at the master list for this fic, you'll see a list of which chapters are still to come and what parts they go into. This is still subject to change (most likely with more chapters being added in if certain scenes turn out to be longer than expected) and not a complete list (I know there will be a Part VI, I'm just not sure whose pov it will be yet), but it'll give you an idea of how much longer this fic will be and what is to come.  
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and any & all feedback is greatly appreciated!**


	10. Part III: Chapter 10

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  
**

* * *

_Note_: Here you go, the next chapter as promised. I hope you enjoy it.

**

* * *

**

_**Part III: Charlie: **CalSci_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 10:**_

**Tuesday, 07:13  
Dr. Charles Eppes' Office, CalSci**

The sound of the door opening drew Charlie from his thoughts about how best to overcome a wonderfully modified Hidden Fields Equation. Turning, he saw Banner step into the office and he froze. It hadn't even been two full days since his last visit, surely the man didn't expect him to have solved the problem yet, not after what he'd told him. His heart rate soared and fear clawed at his throat at the thought. What would they do to Don if they really had expected more tangible progress by now? What could he do to prevent that?

Nothing.

The inescapable truth hit him like a physical blow and he staggered back a few steps as Banner approached.

"I'm still busy working on it! This is not an easy thing to accomplish, the math involved is-"

"Exceptionally difficult, yes, yes, I know," Banner interrupted. "That's not why I'm here, though the faster you finish it, the better for your brother. The man I mentioned earlier, who was holding the gun in the second Polaroid, he's getting harder to control. If you take too long, well..."

"No! You keep him away from Don!" Charlie ordered, the sudden surge of anger giving him courage. "I'm doing what you want."

"Just make sure you keep doing it and don't tell the FBI anything."

"They know," Charlie stated. "They know something's happened to Don, that he's missing."

"Yes, but they don't know _what_ has happened and it had better stay that way if you ever want to see your brother alive again, do you understand me?"

"Y- yes."

"Good, now, we've laid a false trail for them to chase, which should take up some of their time."

"They'll be back," Charlie declared, knowing it was true even if Banner's words caused his mouth to go dry.

If what he was saying was true, then David and the others would be wasting precious time following a bad lead. Time which could be far better spent looking for Don and potentially saving him from this man Banner kept referring to.

"They'll want me to help them."

"And you'll say no," Banner ordered.

"What if they don't give me a choice? What if to say no would make them more suspicious?"

"Then Agent Eppes will suffer the consequences."

The simple statement and its cold delivery sent a shiver down Charlie's spine and he had to fight down the horror and fear in order to think semi rationally.

"You're asking the impossible! Just 'cause they might take me down to their office temporarily doesn't mean that I'll tell them anything. I wouldn't risk Don's life like that."

"And I'm sure letting my... colleague play with your brother a little won't necessarily mean he'll end up dead. See, he'd like to toy with him a bit more first."

Charlie flinched at the wording and his eyes grew wide as Banner extracted another photo from the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

"A little incentive for you, just in case you're tempted to babble to Agent Eppes' team."

Banner put the photo facedown on the desk before walking back to the door.

"Oh, one more thing, Dr. Eppes. We're expecting some results soon, or you won't have to worry about avoiding your brother's team."

The agent was gone before Charlie could form a coherent reply and his eyes were instantly drawn back to the photo. Part of him wanted to rush forward, snatch it up and take in the proof that Don was still alive. The other part of him wanted to back away and never touch the cursed thing. He was afraid, so very afraid, to see what had been done to his brother since Sunday. This wasn't some job related injury that Don had sustained in the line of duty, protecting someone or preventing a crime from happening. No, this was because Don was related to him, this was because of the blood they shared, this was because of who he himself was. This was because of his genius.

Hadn't Don already suffered enough due to his gift? Charlie hadn't been able to see it at the time, but now, looking back on their childhood, he could see some of the sacrifices his older brother had been forced to make for him. Oh, he still hated how Don had treated him at times, or the way he'd made him feel far too often, but those events were no longer viewed through a child's self-centered lens. Difficult as it was at times, he could now put himself in Don's shoes and imagine what things had been like for him. The knowledge of how strained his parent's relationship had become due to the burden of supporting someone of his talents had been the catalyst that had allowed him to go back and take a long hard look at things he'd been so sure he understood as well as he needed to.

In the end, the need to _know_, to have all of the available data, won out over his desire to bury his head in the sand. Charlie knew that he wouldn't be able to ignore the photo forever and it was better to get it over and done with quickly so that he could focus on the problem once more, without being distracted by the images his mind would create in lieu of the Polaroid if he allowed it to.

Decision made... now he just had to follow through, which turned out to be harder than he'd thought it would be. Finally Charlie managed to get his body to act, stepping up to the desk. He noticed how his hand shook as he reached out for the Polaroid, so much so that it took him a few attempts to pick it up. Once he did, he quickly turned it over before he could loose his nerve.

Charlie gasped in horror and then moaned as his eyes were drawn straight to Don's face and the spectacular rainbow colored bruise swelling around his left eye. He'd been right, it had been puffy in the other photos. The knowledge did nothing to help soothe the shock of what he was seeing now, though. He'd seen his brother with bruises on his face before, generally as a teenager after he'd gotten into a fist fight with a bully or gotten a little too rough and tumble with one of his friends. The knowledge that this wasn't something like that, that it had been done to Don while he was already overpowered and unable to resist or defend himself, it was overwhelming and threatened to crush him.

Finally able to tear his eyes from the bruise, Charlie carefully surveyed the rest of his brother, looking for any new injuries. He found far too many for his liking. There appeared to be an angry red line running down the side of his face and two more, lower down on his body, one on his throat and the other down his chest. Now that Don's dress shirt had also been ripped open to reveal his torso, Charlie could see the source of the blood that had stained the shirt on the previous two photos. It was a long cut that ran across his ribs and bisected the red line. It looked painful, but, thankfully, wasn't too deep or life threatening.

There was also some dark bruising on his side that showed he'd taken a hit or a beating of some kind there, though Charlie couldn't quite figure out how. The upper half of Don's shirt and his head were also wet, as if water had been poured over him, but not vertically, as the rest of his shirt and pants weren't soaked. Perhaps it had been thrown at him? That would fit the light spray pattern he could make out on the lower parts of the shirt.

It was while glancing at the shirt that Charlie caught sight of Don's left hand. He moaned again as he noticed the unnatural angle of two of his fingers and swelling that seemed to only just have started appearing. What the hell had they done to his brother? Banner had said that they'd leave him alone if he cooperated. If they considered this nothing, he didn't even want to contemplate what they considered to be real damage.

The worst thing by far about the image, though, was the pain he could detect in the depths of his big brother's eyes. Charlie knew he had to be in serious agony to show it like this and he wondered what else had been done to him to cause it. It was as he was trying to prevent his mind from providing him with answers to that question that he realized that the angry red lines on Don's skin were burns.

Charlie barely made it to the trashcan before he lost what little he had in his stomach.

**

* * *

**

**Tuesday, 12:50  
Dr. Charles Eppes' Office, CalSci**

Charlie felt a rush of satisfaction and relief as he finally managed to peal back the second layer of the security program. The swell of positive emotions didn't last for long, though, as he found himself confronted with yet another layer of security features. Frustration threatened to overwhelm him followed swiftly by despair. This wasn't working, it was taking far too long!

Whereas normally he'd relish the challenge this problem provided as he had for most of the weekend, now Charlie hated it. Instead of being able to charge his way through it and help his brother, he kept running into obstacle after obstacle after obstacle. A sense of failure swamped him as he thought of all the times Don had helped or saved him over the years, he'd long since lost track and yet now, the one time Don needed his help, he was unable to provide it. The worst thing was that what he had to do to save his brother was math related, his area of expertise, and he still couldn't do it.

The rush of emotions churning within him boiled over and Charlie suddenly found himself on the floor, breathing hard and fast. Before he'd fully decided what to do, he found himself reaching out towards the drawer with the photos, needing to be able to see his brother. But then he snatched his arm back, the image of the latest Polaroid flashing across his mind. He moaned at the memory of the new injuries Don had sported. Injuries his brother had received because he'd been too slow with the math. He was trying to resist the compulsion of looking at the photos again and found himself rocking back and forth as a result.

Charlie pressed his face to his knees in despair and tried in vain to reel in his wayward emotions. He didn't have the time for this! Every moment he wasted was a moment longer that Don was in the hands of those who'd kidnapped him. Every moment longer was a moment more that Don was at their mercy, helpless to resist or protect himself as they injured him further.

Instead of helping to spur him on, the thought only served to distract Charlie further as his mind started conjuring up images of what his brother might look like in the next photo he received. Would his other eye be bruised too? What about his right hand, would it have received the same treatment as his left? Would there be more burn marks? And that was without even considering the host of other things that could be inflicted on Don. Unfortunately his mind was more than able to imagine all kinds of horrors due to the crime scene photos he'd seen over the course of his work for the FBI. Don did his best to protect him from those sights, but he'd always been so determined in his insistence that he didn't need to be protected anymore or to get all of the available data the he'd seen his fair share of them. Now he sincerely wished he hadn't then his mind wouldn't be able to conjure up the images so easily or realistically.

"Charlie!"

The cry drew him out of his thoughts and he lifted his head to find Colby dropping into a crouch beside him.

"Are you alright?" Colby inquired worriedly.

Charlie just looked at him, blinking as he tried desperately to remember what his plan was. He knew he'd had one for how to deal with this moment, the inevitable arrival of someone from Don's team to try and get him to go to the office and help them locate Don or figure out what had happened to him. He just couldn't remember what he'd decided to do no matter how hard he tried.

"Charlie? Come on, man, are you with me here?"

"Colby," Charlie said for lack of anything better as his mind remained stubbornly blank, failing him yet again.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," the words were out of his mouth before Charlie realized what a Don like response it was given that Colby could clearly tell that something was wrong.

The quick grimace that crossed the agent's face indicated that it had occurred to him as well.

"It's not making any sense!" Charlie exclaimed, his mind back on what Banner wanted him to accomplish.

"What's not making any sense?"

"The problem," Charlie explained impatiently. "And it's so familiar too!"

He didn't know why he kept coming back to that. Charlie knew that one of the mathematicians involved was Harvey, so he wasn't surprised that some of it looked familiar to him as they'd collaborated together during his time at MIT. Yet, somehow, he didn't think that was quite why he had the feeling, at least not pertaining to the parts of the program he was most interested in. In unveiling the third layer, he'd gotten more of a glimpse of the peculiar algorithm that seemed to run straight through all of the layers of the security program and which he'd first noticed at the very start on Thursday evening. Of course, back then he'd assumed it was a feature of the second layer of the security program, not realizing how deep it truly ran.

"Familiar? Charlie, what-" Colby began. "Never mind, look I'm here to see whether you can come help us or not. I know it's a lot to ask, but-"

"Ask!" Charlie exclaimed, shooting to his feet.

Too fast, much too fast and only Colby's quick reflexes prevented Charlie from tumbling back down to the floor as the world went white for a second.

"Whoa! Careful. Are you sure you're okay? Why were you on the floor to begin with? Did you fall down?"

"Ask, that's it! That's why it's so familiar!"

"Charlie? What- when did you last eat something?"

"Toast," Charlie muttered, only half paying attention to Colby as he pondered this new revelation.

**

* * *

**

**For those of you interested, Hidden Fields Equations really do exist in encryption. Don't ask me what they do, I just know they're real as I came across them while looking for something that sounded kinda cool and _Numb3rs_ishy.  
The next chapter will see the rest of the Charlie and Colby scene as well as Charlie meeting Frazer...**


	11. Part III: Chapter 11

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  
**

* * *

_Note_: As promised, the first bit below continues the Charlie and Colby scene from the previous chapter. Following that is Charlie's meeting with Frazer...

**

* * *

**

_**Part III: Charlie: **CalSci_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 11:**_

**Tuesday, 13:18  
Dr. Charles Eppes' Office, CalSci**

He'd all but forgotten about it, but just as the full truth of his mother's condition had become apparent, Harvey had contacted him for help. His old friend had said that he'd just discovered a brilliant student who showed incredible potential and reminded him of his old collaborator in a lot of ways. '_The next Charlie Eppes_' had been his exact words and he'd had nothing but praise for his new pupil. Harvey had mailed him to ask his opinion on a piece of the girl's work and whether he had any suggestions for her further education. He'd only had the briefest chance to look at the attached document before he'd been sucked into P vs. NP in a desperate and misguided attempt to hide himself away from what was happening to his mother.

By the time Mom had died and been buried, Charlie had long since forgotten about the e-mail and the student's work. In fact, he'd completely forgotten about it until he'd seen Harvey at a conference a year and a half ago now. He'd apologized profusely and been told that it was okay as his friend had heard about what had happened and understood that his mind had been elsewhere. He still wasn't sure if Harvey was referring to his brief foray into madness or simply his mother's death, but dismissed the thought as he tried to recall exactly what this student- Maria Espinoza, he thought- had done in her work that he'd seen.

Did he still have a copy of it on his computer? Charlie grabbed his laptop from his overflowing desk and moved to the couch with it, pushing aside papers and folders so that he could sit down. He blinked and looked about as he realized that Colby seemed to have vanished and he glanced at his watch, wondering just how much time had passed since the agent's appearance, but he wasn't sure. Shrugging it aside, he delved into his computer's memory and, after a few minutes searching, found the file he wanted. Opening it, he was instantly assaulted by the sheer familiarity of the work contained within. This was, without a doubt, the same person who had written the expressions that he'd admired from the moment Banner had first shown him the files. Oh, the work here wasn't nearly as elegant as that contained in the encryption and security program, but it was definitely done in the same style, just a lot less advanced.

So, Maria Espinoza was the mysterious mathematician whose work had made his own so incredibly difficult.

"Here, eat this."

Colby's sudden reappearance at his side caused Charlie to jump slightly and he glanced up, distracted and confused, gazing blankly at the candy bar.

"Huh?"

"Eat it," Colby pressed, ripping open the wrapper and holding it out to him.

"Why?" Charlie asked, completely lost even as the majority of his mind continued to process what he'd just uncovered.

"Because you haven't been eating properly and have low blood sugar. This isn't enough, but it'll help get your blood sugar back up some."

"Ah."

It _had_ been a while since he'd last eaten, though that had been partially done on purpose as he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep anything down. The knowledge that he'd collapse without food and be totally useless to Don made Charlie accept the candy bar and start eating it absently as he turned his attention back to his laptop screen.

"Charlie, are you sure you can't look at something for us?"

Now that he had seen some of her more recent work, Charlie dearly wished that he'd been able to meet Maria as he had the feeling that there was a lot that they could learn from each other. Unfortunately, she'd already gotten her PhD and left MIT by the time the conference had rolled around and thus she hadn't been there with Harvey.

"It could be quite important to helping us find Don."

A chill ran through Charlie as he remembered what his former collaborator had told him about her during the conference. Instead of going on to do a formal post doc at some prestigious university or research laboratory, Maria had accepted a permanent position with the NSA. She hadn't told Harvey exactly what she'd be doing, she wasn't allowed to, but he'd confided in Charlie that he assumed it would be related to material classified at the highest level given her skill.

"We got word from the head of Fugitive Recovery yesterday-"

The knowledge made Charlie put his laptop aside and leap to his feet. He darted around Colby who still seemed to be present and grabbed one of the folders off of his desk. Only just remembering to be careful so that Colby didn't catch a glimpse of the logo on the folder jacket, he started flipping madly through the pages, trying to find one of the expressions that he thought was Maria Espinoza's. His heart sank as he found one and knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was looking at her work.

"- a prisoner that Don tracked down before escaped again two weeks ago-"

If she worked fulltime for the NSA, then Maria wouldn't spend time consulting or collaborating with outside partners on non-NSA business. Charlie had seen first hand how busy things got inside the NSA headquarters and knew, from the number of times Bob had tried to recruit him, that they were always looking for more mathematicians. Maria wouldn't need to look elsewhere for work, which meant that the problem he was working on now, the encryption and security program he was attempting to hack, were NSA security features.

They were designed by the NSA to protect its highly sensitive data.

"- and he has sworn vengeance on Don."

Charlie swallowed thickly as he looked up at the boards he'd been working on. On some level, he'd known, right from the start when Banner had first shown him the photos of Don, but he'd managed to not really think about it. Instead he'd tried to convince himself that what Banner had originally said was true; that all the security was for a computer he and the others he was now working with had acquired. A non-NSA computer. He nearly laughed aloud at his own stupidity, his own ability to blind himself to the truth in order to make what he was doing easier on himself.

But no more. Now that he realized the truth, he couldn't hide from it anymore. He was helping Banner and an unknown number of others hack the NSA's security in order to steal data. For what purpose he didn't know, but he found he didn't really care too much. He was doing it for Don, to save his brother's life. Despite that, the new knowledge weighed heavily on his conscious. He'd helped the NSA create better security programs in the past and he knew he was betraying the trust they, and especially Bob, had placed in him, but what else was he to do?

"Charlie? Charlie, are you even listening to me?"

He couldn't just abandon his brother and telling David or the rest of the team was entirely out of the question. If they knew Banner and the others wanted to steal something from the NSA, there was no way they'd allow him to continue working on the problem. Oh, he knew they'd let him try and create some type of illusion like he'd done when Amita was kidnapped, but it was too much of a risk without knowing exactly what they were after and he highly doubted the NSA would give him enough data on it for it to succeed. Not even to save Don's life. To them, for the intel, one person was often expendable, but not to him. Not his brother.

All of which meant he was right back where he was before he knew who the mysterious mathematician was. Or no, wait, not quite. Charlie rushed to the board and grabbed a piece of chalk as he recognized a part of the third layer from Maria's earlier work, only there it hadn't yet been perfected and provided a vital clue to how it could best be overcome. If he took into account the changes she'd made to the basic makeup of the algorithm, then he should be able to bypass it using the same weakness it shared with the Unbalanced Oil and Vinegar scheme, though with a slight modification to take the y differential into account.

When he'd finally finished writing down that line of thought, Charlie stepped back from the board and looked around. His office was quiet and deserted but for him. Hadn't Colby been here just a moment ago?

**

* * *

**

**Wednesday, 15:25  
Dr. Charles Eppes' Office, CalSci**

"Dr. Charles Edward Eppes."

Not having heard the door open, the voice startled Charlie and he whirled around to face it. The speaker was of average height with very close-cropped brown hair. His eyes were also brown and made Charlie shiver as he looked into them. He'd never seen this man before but already he didn't like him, which was strange as he normally wasn't very good at picking up vibes from other people.

"I- I'm sorry," Charlie began and paused to swallow, not sure why he was so nervous all of a sudden. "Did you have an appointment to see me? If not, I'm going to have to ask you to come back another time as I'm quite busy at the moment."

"Nope, no appointment, but you'll see me anyway," the man declared confidently, casually pacing further into the room. "See, Jeremy's a bit- uh, hung up at the moment and couldn't make it."

Charlie froze as the words registered, his eyes widening. This was one of the other people working with Banner! The knowledge made him take a closer look at the man's appearance, but the black leather bomber jacket he wore hid any weapons he might be carrying.

"I'm still working on the problem."

"So I see," the man stopped next to the desk, perching himself on the edge of it, crumpling papers as he glanced dismissively at the equation filled boards. "But is any of this crap actually worth anything yet?"

"It will be, soon," Charlie replied, angry at the man's tone and attitude but unwilling to risk saying anything that could anger him. Not so long as Don was likely to suffer the consequences. "I just need a few more days and-"

"A few more days? Isn't that what you told dear Jeremy a few days ago?"

"It's complicated!" Charlie snapped, frustrated, his exhaustion sapping his control. "The math involved is of the highest level and it-"

"Blah, blah, blah," the man interrupted as he got to his feet and stalked around the desk.

Involuntarily, Charlie took a step back and then another until he felt the board behind him and knew he had nowhere else to go. He _really_ didn't like this man for some reason and he'd seen enough criminals while helping his brother to know that this one was almost certainly dangerous. His mouth went dry as the man continued to advance until he'd stepped into his personal space.

"You know what, baby brother? I don't really mind if it takes you a long time to solve it, 'cause the longer it takes you, the longer I get to play with Agent Eppes."

The title came out sounding more like an insult than anything else and Charlie's breath caught in his throat as he realized exactly who was standing before him. This was _him_; the man who'd been holding the gun to Don's head in the second photo. The man whom Banner kept saying they had to restrain from hurting Don even more than he already had. The man who hated FBI agents.

A vague memory of Colby saying that a fugitive who had it in for Don had escaped from prison surfaced and Charlie wondered if that was the man standing before him now. Could it really be that personal? He seriously hoped not as he knew enough about crime stats to know how much worse that made it for Don. How much it decreased the odds of his survival.

The sudden, inescapable, confrontation of cold, hard facts jolted through Charlie. Up until now, he'd done his best not to think about the statistics he knew so well. Those of kidnappings and the sharp drop of the odds of getting a victim back alive after the first forty-eight hours had passed. The stats of federal agents who were targeted for vengeance or other motives and abducted as a result. The odds of his brother surviving being held at gunpoint, no, having a gun held to his head, yet again. Now that the first had wormed its way past his defenses, however, all of the others came pouring in behind it, nearly overwhelming him.

The man was laughing now, his cigarette-laden breath washing over him, making him nauseous. Or maybe that was the image of his brother held helpless at the mercy of this man. Not that Charlie thought the man had any, mercy that is.

_Play with._

The words made him sick to his stomach as they confirmed that, yes, it was personal for him. At some point in the past, Don's path had crossed with that of the man in front of him and something had happened. Charlie didn't know what, but whatever it had been, the man hated his brother for it. And now he had Don, restrained and helpless, to do with whatever he wished.

"You'd not be nearly so much fun," the man observed with a feral smile. "Look, you're afraid already. You sure you two are related?"

The question awoke Charlie's anger. The insinuation that he and Don were nothing like each other was a far too painful reminder of all the time they'd spent so distant from each other, both physically and emotionally. Now, when it looked like their time together might be violently terminated, it cut more than ever before to think of it. Between that and the casual remark about it being fun to torture his brother, Charlie's frayed nerves finally snapped and even the sinking feeling in his stomach wasn't enough to restrain his sudden surge of temper.

"You leave my brother alone!" Charlie ordered, straightening and meeting the man's gaze head on, a hand coming up to make his point.

Surprise flickered across the man's face before he reacted. Charlie's hand was knocked aside before he was shoved back against the blackboards. A brief metallic noise preceded the sudden appearance of a knife, so close to his face that it caused him to flinch. His eyes opened impossible wider and he felt his heart stop as he caught sight of the rust colored substance coating the length of the blade.

Blood.

"So, the professor has teeth!" the man exclaimed with a manic laugh. "Color me surprised."

The words washed over Charlie, barely registering as his eyes were locked on the stains coating the blade, fear and horror flooding him. Flashes of memory from just a few short months ago surfaced with unexpected clarity. Briefly, the man's face was replaced with that of Radovic, holding a similar knife which, though it was clean, was also stained with his brother's blood. At least he assumed it was Don's blood he was currently seeing.

Why Don? What had his brother ever done to deserve all of this?

"Hey, Eppes!" the man snapped, displeased at not being the center of his captive's attention. "What is it with you two and knives?"

"N- nothing," Charlie stammered, realizing just in time what kind of power that knowledge could give this man over his brother.

"Now you're just lying to me. This has got to do with that scar your brother has, doesn't it?"

Charlie swallowed nervously, not sure what to say but determined not to confirm the other's guess.

"You should have seen the way he reacted to this baby, it was beautiful."

The pleasure on the man's face was incomprehensible to Charlie. He was talking about hurting another human being, about hurting _Don_. How could he possible think of something like that in such terms?

_Play with. Beautiful._

"What have you done to Don?" Charlie demanded, wanting his voice to come out strong and steady, but getting a hoarse whisper instead.

He was almost afraid to ask, sure he wouldn't like the answer.

If Charlie had thought that the sight of the second photo, with the gun pressed against his brother's head, was the worst thing he'd ever see, he'd been so terribly wrong it wasn't even funny. The third picture had proved that and now, the fourth one which suddenly appeared before his nose, took his breath away. A moment passed before he could reach out and take it from the man's fingers, its contents so horrifying.

The blood was the first thing Charlie saw; it was everywhere. Don's face, throat and forearms where they emerged from a navy blue shirt were covered in it from what appeared to be a series of cuts which crisscrossed his skin seemingly at random. Almost automatically, his mind attempted to find some sort of pattern to the madness but he couldn't. It was as if the knife had simply been taken to every available inch of exposed skin. Luckily all of the cuts appeared to be shallow and not deep, but it was hard to tell from a photograph. The close proximity of one to Don's right eye caused Charlie to swallow, not even wanting to contemplate what his brother had been thinking at the moment that particular cut had been made.

The despair which rose within him at the sight of what had been done to his big brother nearly crowded out his horror and anger, leaving him speechless. This man's cruelty was staggering and Charlie simply couldn't wrap his mind around it, around how or _why_ someone would do something like this.

"I've just been having some fun while waiting for you to do your bit," the man remarked, turning his head slightly towards the knife and licking it.

Charlie could only gape in disbelief as he watched the tongue dart out and carefully lap part of the knife clean.

"Mmmm, there's nothing quite like federal blood. Want a taste?"

"No!" Charlie exclaimed, horrified and disgusted at the same time.

The man threw his head back and laughed. "Are you quite sure? It tastes exquisite."

**

* * *

**

**Don't ask me where that last bit with Frazer and the blood licking comes from, I honestly don't know. He's taking on a life of his own and I'm just along for the ride. Keane was gonna be the biggest bad guy in this fic, with Frazer playing a pivotal but smaller part. That sure worked out as I'd planned...  
Just one more chapter to go for Part III (it'll be up on Tuesday) and then we move on to Alan's pov for Part IV which will consist of chapters 13-15.  
And, yes, unbelievably, an Unbalanced Oil and Vinegar scheme really does exist in encryption. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried!**


	12. Part III: Chapter 12

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Spoilers_: _Protest_

_Note_: Here we go, the next chapter as promised. This chapter is the last one in Part III, the next one is Part IV, which is from Alan's pov. It will be up as soon as I get it back from my lovely betas. Part IV will consist of 3 chapters before we return to Don's pov for Part V.

**

* * *

**

_**Part III: Charlie: **CalSci_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 12:**_

**Thursday, 06:39  
Dr. Charles Eppes' Office, CalSci**

What was this program designed to protect?

What was so important that it needed a system so elaborate, so complex, to protect it?

The questions ran through Charlie's mind yet again as he found indications that there was yet another layer of security under the fourth one he'd finally reached a few hours ago. It was really starting to bug him the deeper he got into the problem. Harvey, Maria and the other mathematicians involved had pulled out all the stops, using every trick they could think of to make what he was doing as difficult as possible. The data that lay behind all of this, safely locked away, had to be incredibly important to the NSA and he knew enough about how the Agency worked to know what that signified.

On top of all of that, Charlie just couldn't get his encounter with the man Banner worked with out of his head. The way he'd spoken of hurting Don, the sheer _glee_ in his eyes at the mere _thought_ of it... It nearly made him sick to think of it despite the fact that he'd already brought up everything he'd had in his stomach. The memory of him licking the blood- _Don's_ blood- off the knife surfaced once more and Charlie froze, fighting with all he had not to start retching again. He succeeded but was sweaty, shaky and lightheaded from the effort and he stumbled back into his chair.

That man was going to kill his brother if Don was left with him much longer.

As much as Charlie didn't want to even acknowledge that thought, he knew it was true. If Don wasn't freed soon, he never would be. Not only did his impression of the man tell him that, but it was also a statistical fact. He'd done his utmost best not to think of all the stats he knew about crime in general and kidnapping in particular, but in the end his mind had done so anyway during yesterday's encounter. The results were not promising.

Reluctant as he was to consider disobeying Banner in a way that was sure to get Don killed instantly if discovered, Charlie knew he had to let Don's team know exactly what was going on. Given the complexity of the problem and the sheer genius of some of the math involved, he feared that there was a very good possibility that he wouldn't be able to hack it in time to satisfy Banner and those working with him. Either they'd decide the risk was getting too great with the FBI closing in on them, or the man he'd met yesterday would loose his patience and kill Don. Banner had said that the man was getting harder and harder to control, something which he could well imagine given what he'd seen first hand.

All of which left Charlie with the problem of how exactly he was going to inform David and the others of what was going on without alerting Banner to the fact that he was doing so. He was pretty sure that they had him under surveillance of some sort given how they'd known exactly when to tell him that they'd kidnapped Don and their other threats. Without surveillance, they'd also have no way of knowing who he told what and he didn't think they'd take that risk. Not after how they'd abducted Don well before they'd needed to. They seemed to like being prepared. From what he'd seen while consulting for the NSA, he assumed that they'd have utilized some of the miniature cameras the Agency had and placed them around his office.

The thought came to him suddenly and Charlie rushed over to the couch and grabbed his laptop. Those cameras he'd seen were wireless, which meant their signal was detectable if one knew how to look for it and he most definitely did. A few minutes later, he'd found three signals and discovered that the encryption on them was of far lesser quality than that of the problem he was currently working on. This he could crack in no time and then it would be child's play to route the live feed from the cameras through his computer before transmitting it beyond the office walls. Unfortunately it was the type of signal that was simply beamed out and not directed at any one location, but Charlie was kicking himself for not thinking to check it sooner. If it had been the former type, then he'd have dragged this out for a full four days beyond what was necessary.

Once he'd hacked into the signal, Charlie would be able to record a certain amount of time and then set that up on a repeating loop before broadcasting it instead of the live feed. Then Banner and the others would think he was here in his office, working on the problem, when he really wasn't. It would allow him to go somewhere and inform the others of what was going on.

As he worked on breaking into the signals, Charlie mentally debated what the best course of action was. He couldn't be sure that Banner and the others weren't watching his car or the building as well, so it was best if he left CalSci carefully, just in case. Luckily the math building was connected to the history building by an underground tunnel that the students often used when it was raining. That building was in turn connected to the psychology building by a covered passageway on the second floor. If he used those, he'd get a good way across campus without being seen and from there he could walk off campus and catch a cab to wherever he wanted to go.

Since he didn't want to be gone too long in case Banner or the other guy returned, Charlie decided it would be best if he headed straight for the FBI office. He could use one of the side entrances just in case the building was being watched but he doubted that it was as that would be quite risky. Still, if he was going to tell others about what was happening, he felt that he should also tell his father the truth. If for no other reason than to explain why he'd been so rude and uncaring both of the times he'd dropped by.

Charlie winced at the thought of last night's visit. Given that it had worked before, he'd used the same tactics he had on Monday and he was sure he'd hurt Dad quite a bit in doing so. The problem was, how to tell him to be there? His father didn't check his e-mails often and he didn't want to risk calling him as he couldn't be sure his phone was clean, not given that he'd allowed Banner to touch it Sunday evening. There was no telling what the agent might have done with it, so it was staying in the office, just in case. Oh, he'd just e-mail David, give him a heads up that he was coming and ask him to make sure his father was present.

Now that he had a plan decided upon, Charlie quickly set about implementing it, trying to think of anything that he might have forgotten or overlooked. He couldn't find anything, but butterflies filled his stomach nonetheless. He was really going to do this, really going to blatantly disobey Banner and risk Don's life in the process.

Despite that, the mental image of his brother was finally nodding at him in approval. Charlie only hoped he'd be able to see the real Don do that soon.

**

* * *

**

**Thursday, 17:28  
Violent Crimes Squad War Room A, LA FBI Office**

Charlie couldn't quite believe that he was back in the FBI building so soon. His original plan had been to come over, explain the situation to his father and the team and then return to CalSci to be there should anyone come by. Instead, David had convinced him it was far better for everyone involved if he worked from the office instead. Not only would it be saver for him, but he'd have more resources at his disposal to work with once the Assistant Director decided on whether or not to contact the NSA about what was transpiring. They were hesitant to do so as there were clearly leaks within the Agency and they didn't want to risk word getting back to Banner or anyone who might be working with him.

Meanwhile, a team of agents would be keeping his office under constant surveillance, ready to intercept and arrest Banner or Frazer the moment they showed. Well, either that or follow them back to where they were keeping Don. It would depend on how they reacted to finding the office deserted.

So Charlie had returned to campus to show the agents the best way to his office and they'd helped him set things up so he could record some more footage to transmit that made it look like it was night for when it got dark. He'd then collected everything he needed, and probably a lot he didn't as he chose not to waste time sorting through all the papers, before returning to the office.

As he'd expected, the FBI wasn't going to allow him to continue trying to hack the NSA's security program and encryption, but he was allowed to examine what he'd done so far for further clues as to what it might protect. He'd also been given access to everything David and the team had uncovered as well as Frazer's full criminal record. He shuddered as he read the bit about George Frazer's death and the subsequent threats Darien had made against Don. From the sounds of it, what the man had chosen to do to Don so far was nothing compared to what he'd wanted to do back then.

To what he still might do.

The thought was enough to cause his stomach to heave and he only just managed to keep the food his father had forced him to eat down. If he was sick now, Charlie knew Dad, who was already hovering over him most of the time, wouldn't leave his side for the foreseeable future and then he'd get no work done at all. That was something he couldn't risk as he _needed_ to be doing something to help his brother right now. The issues David, Colby and Nikki had raised when he'd informed them of what was really going on still stung. How had he not thought to ask for proof that the photos were recent? How had he simply taken that fact for granted? He was smarter than that!

Once again Charlie was confronted with the unpleasant realization that he wasn't nearly as rational or logical when he was confronted with an emotionally charged situation as he thought he was. Yes, he was far better than he used to be, but he was still a far cry from achieving his goal; from being where he always thought he was. This time was a perfect example. He'd believed that, being aware of his tendency to loose logic and reason in these situations, he'd been able to compensate adequately for those weaknesses. Obviously not.

First, he had failed to think of the fact that the Polaroids could have been taken at any point since Don's abduction and thus he'd not thought to ask for more concrete proof that his big brother was still alive at present. Second, he'd failed to think of the fact that the sudden appearance of a new shirt on his brother's frame in the fourth photo could be due to a desire on their part to hide the true extent of his brother's injuries from him. Third, he'd convinced himself he was better off dealing with the whole thing on his own instead of alerting the FBI immediately to the situation. Just how many times had he heard Don or another agent bemoan the fact that a kidnapping hadn't been reported right away?

If it turned out that Don had already been killed and there was a chance he could have been saved if he'd only acted rationally sooner...

"Hey, Charlie, do you have everything you need?" David inquired, entering the war room.

"Yeah, I think so, but I have a question."

"Yes?"

"It says here that Frazer threatened Don from the moment of his second arrest."

"He did, apparently he has always blamed Don for his brother's death despite the fact that they ambushed Don and his partner. Not altogether unusual for someone of his personality."

"But, if he made those threats, then why wasn't Don more careful knowing that he'd escaped again?" Charlie asked, anger growing within him as he thought of how little Don sometimes thought about his own safety. If this could have been prevented... "Didn't he think to take any precautions? Or didn't he consider the threat serious enough to warrant it?"

"Charlie, Don didn't know Frazer had escaped," David informed him, voice soothing.

"What? Why not? I thought agents were warned when those who'd threatened them broke out or were released."

"Normally they are. Something went wrong, though."

"What? How?"

"Apparently the need to alert Don was removed from Frazer's file before he escaped. They thought it had been a simple screw up on someone's part, but given what this group is up to, I suspect that it might have been done on purpose. I'd say they possess the ability to break into the prison records if they managed to orchestrate his escape."

"Why? To catch Don off-guard?"

"Yeah, that would be my guess."

"Then how did you learn about his escape?"

"Someone more familiar with the file realized it was missing. The head of Fugitive Recovery called the office himself when the error was discovered. He wanted to personally warn Don and apologize."

"But it was already too late," Charlie finished, the ringing of a cell interrupting his next thought.

"Sinclair," David said, answering his phone.

Charlie nearly snapped at him to tell them to call back before he realized that it could be something to do with Don.

"Agent Cooper? Sure, patch him through."

Cooper, wasn't that Don's old partner from Fugitive Recovery? Yes, it said so right here in the file; he'd been the one Don was covering when he shot George Frazer. What was he doing calling David? And now of all times? Had he perhaps heard of what had happened to Don and of Frazer's involvement?

"What!" David exclaimed, his eyes widening in disbelief and shock.

All thoughts abruptly fled Charlie's mind as fear gripped him. Had something happened to Don? Had someone found him or his-

No! Don wasn't dead. He _couldn't_ be dead! Not now, after everything that had happened, after everything he'd done. If Don didn't make it because he'd waited too long to tell David and the others about what he knew...

Charlie wasn't sure he could live with that.

**

* * *

**

**If anyone is disappointed in this chapter jumping straight from Thursday morning to Thursday evening without the scene where Charlie reveals the truth to everyone, don't be. That scene is yet to come, simply from Alan's point of view.  
Just in case anyone finds that Charlie's planned way out of the math building is too convenient, it's not that far fetched really. I attended UMass, Amherst and there the history building, Herter Hall, was connected to it's annex via a walking bridge on the second floor. The annex was connected to Bartlett Hall (English) via an underground tunnel and Bartlett, in turn, was connected to Tobin Hall (psychology) via another walking bridge. Really handy when it was raining.**


	13. Part IV: Chapter 13

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Note_: Sorry about the delay in posting this chapter, but some of it couldn't be helped as FF.N was being a pain, first I couldn't login and then I couldn't upload the chapter! I've been trying for 24 hours now to get this up. The next few should all come out on time as I've already gotten them back from my betas. I won't post them all back-to-back simply because then I'd catch up with the chapters that are still being written and the wait would be even longer, but they'll come out soon starting with chapter 14 on Tuesday.

**

* * *

**

_**Part IV: Alan: **FBI_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 13:**_

**Friday, 20:47  
Eppes Residence, 874 Hunter Street**

Alan muttered darkly to himself as he put the leftover brisket, more than he'd been able to eat, into a Tupperware container. He'd specially made enough for three, expecting his eldest and hoping his youngest might also turn up for dinner as well. It had been more wishful thinking than anything else, he knew, as Charlie had started working on some new problem only yesterday and he knew the signs well enough to know it would be one of those which would be the focus of his youngest's attention for the next little while. The way Charlie had hardly been aware of his presence when he'd stopped by his office this morning proved that.

Still, a father could hope.

Don, Don however, had no such excuse. His oldest had promised to stop by and join him for dinner tonight when he'd seen him earlier in the week. He'd understand, on some level, if his son had a case to deal with, he wouldn't per se approve as there were more than enough agents at the office to allow Don to take a dinner break once in a while, but that simply wasn't his son's way. The thing was that he normally called if he was busy to let Alan know he wouldn't be able to make it. Today he hadn't and when he'd tried his son's cell it had gone straight to voicemail, which meant he was either on a raid or he'd turned it off, as was his wont on occasion when he was off duty.

Perhaps Don had simply forgotten his promise? It rarely happened, but everyone forgot something once in a while. Maybe he'd gotten off work at a decent time and was now spending quality time with Robin. Alan found he liked that thought and it cheered him a little even as he grumbled about the lack of a phone call. It would have been nice if Don had let him know that he'd accidentally double booked and wouldn't be coming by. Surely his eldest knew he'd have no problem with either of his sons spending time with their girlfriends?

He'd have to make sure he told Don that the next time he saw him, simply so he wouldn't wait in vain for a son who wouldn't show or so he'd know not to cook as much. It was just good manners and they'd taught Donny better than that.

**

* * *

**

**Monday, 10:21  
Eppes Residence, 874 Hunter Street**

The kitchen counters shone satisfactorily as Alan stood back to admire his work. Although he generally tended to keep things tidy, it had been high time for the kitchen to get a good scrubbing and this morning he'd finally run out of excuses to put it off any longer. He'd considered making his youngest do it, as owner of the house, but had soon discarded the idea as he shuddered to think what Charlie's definition of a good clean might be. Besides, he'd be the one to suffer if it was poorly done as Don was too busy to cook and Charlie didn't. Oh, his youngest tried on occasion, but he couldn't really make anything that required any kind of intuitive alterations to the recipe. Give him step-by-step instructions that never needed changing and he was fine, but most dishes simply didn't work like that.

It was much like Charlie's musical talents. He could play the notes as they were written and know the mathematical harmony of it all, but he lacked any and all feel for the music itself. His playing was mechanical.

Alan smiled at the memories that line of thought invoked and turned towards the phone as it started to ring. His hand froze in the air above the wireless receiver as he caught sight of the number on the display. It was one of the numbers from Donny's office. The smile instantly vanished from his face to be replaced with a displeased frown. His annoyance with his eldest had grown over the course of the weekend as the expected apology for having forgotten about dinner on Friday night never materialized. He'd decided not to pursue his son and instead let him come to him for once and had gotten nothing, not one word of what had happened or why.

As the phone continued to ring, Alan was half tempted to not pick it up at all. See what Don thought about being ignored, but then he caved and answered it.

"Hello."

"Mr. Eppes- Alan, it's David here."

"Oh, hello David," Alan said, caught off-guard.

Was Don really going to try and use his agent as a go between? Where had he and Margaret gone wrong? He was sure that Don knew better than this.

"Look, David, I don't know what Don's told you, but I want to speak with him, now," Alan stated, not at all pleased.

"Uh... M- Alan, Don's not here."

"Don't give me that, look, tell him it's not fair of him to put you in the middle of this. Either he comes on the phone now and apologizes for Friday evening or he comes by the house and does it in person as I won't ta-"

"You saw Don Friday evening?" David interrupted.

"No, that's just it, he said he would come by for dinner and then never showed up!" Alan declared, so much on a roll that it took a few moments for the urgency of the agent's question to register, but when it did, it stopped him dead in his tracks.

A wave of dread rolled over Alan as the events of the past weekend suddenly took on a far darker meaning in light of David's concern. Don almost never forgot something once he gave his word. He might not always be able to keep it due to developments at work, but he always remembered having said he'd be somewhere and did his best to alert the person in question to his inability to make his commitment. At first he'd simply assumed that this was one of those few times where it had simply slipped Don's mind, he was only human after all, despite all his own thoughts to the contrary. The thought that his son might be spending time with his girlfriend was such a pleasant one that he'd not initially been too miffed or concerned.

The lack of a phone call the following two days had irritated him more than anything else, though now Alan realized that had been more a subconscious masking of the worry he'd started to feel. Worry that something was wrong and that was why Donny hadn't contacted him as he normally would have done. His hands were shaking and he gripped the kitchen counter to steady himself as the dread deepened to horror as he just _knew_ something terrible had happened to his eldest.

Again.

Abruptly he had a flash of the call from David that had so nearly ripped his world out from under him only a few short months ago. Why? Why was this happening again so soon after that? Why them? Why Donny? His son deserved better than this. After all of the sacrifices he had made in his life, both for his family and for virtual strangers, Don deserved better than this. Was that why he'd so easily accepted the fantasy that Don had been too busy with Robin to remember about their dinner plans? Had he wanted to believe it so much or deny that something else could have befallen his firstborn yet again?

"David," Alan whispered, unable to say anything else but knowing he'd not have to as that one word was so loaded with fear and desperation that the agent would know exactly what he was asking.

"Alan, I -" David began and Alan could hear the hesitation and indecision in his voice.

It was so strikingly different from Don that it hurt. If it were his son on the line, Alan knew he'd probably not even know that something was wrong, his eldest would try to keep it under wraps so as not to worry him any sooner than necessary. His Donny would try to protect him, no matter the cost to himself in denying the emotional support his family could provide. David, however, had always been much more straightforward, both in following the letter of the law and in his interactions with the Eppes family patriarch. He hoped now would be no different.

"He's not shown up for work yet," David finally admitted.

Alan's eyes flew to the clock and the fear he felt solidified into a ball of ice in his stomach. Donny was hardly ever late and this was well beyond getting stuck in traffic or running into something unexpected. Add to that the fact that he'd missed dinner on Friday and hadn't been reachable all weekend...

The realization that his son could have been missing for several days hit Alan with the force of a physical blow and he gasped, staggering backwards until he hit the kitchen wall and his legs gave way beneath him and he slid to the floor.

"Alan? Alan, are you alright?" David demanded, obviously worried. "Mr. Eppes?"

"Donny," Alan finally managed to force out. "He was supposed to be here Friday for dinner, brisket."

"But he didn't show?" David prodded gently.

"No, he didn't. I - God, I thought he'd forgotten or been caught up in something at work."

"That's understandable."

"No, yes, but I... I was angry. Upset that he didn't call to tell me he wouldn't be able to make it. I - I never thought that..."

"It's a normal reaction, Alan," David soothed. "There's not many people who'd immediately jump to the worst possible scenario."

"Not even when he remained unreachable for the rest of the weekend?"

"You tried to contact him the whole time?"

"No," Alan admitted guiltily. If only he had! Surely he'd have known something was wrong sooner if he kept trying to call Don and the calls all went straight to voicemail, wouldn't he? "But my calls went straight to voicemail all of Friday evening and I haven't heard from him since."

"Yeah, neither has Robin."

"Robin?" Alan queried, sensing more. "Did they have plans?"

"Don did, apparently he'd organized a short weekend trip out of town, but he kept her in the dark about it so she wasn't concerned when she didn't hear from him."

"He wanted to surprise her."

"So it would seem."

"What about Charlie, have you called him? Maybe he knows something more?"

"I tried Charlie first, he saw Don Friday evening."

"He did?"

"Yes, apparently he stopped by to drop off a file for Charlie."

"When was that?"

"Around seven."

"Which would have made him right on time for dinner," Alan realized, swallowing at the knowledge that Donny _hadn't_ forgotten about their plans after all.

This whole time, he'd been blaming his son and it was all for nothing. Don had remembered and had clearly been on his way home to join him when something had happened to him. The question was what and, though he tried to push the thought aside it still intruded, was he still alive now?

"Do you know if Don had anything else planned for this weekend?" David asked quietly.

"No, just that he was coming here for dinner Friday."

"I know this next is a long shot, but I must ask. Did Don seem nervous in any way the last time you saw him? Like he was worried about something or someone?"

"No, not that I think he'd tell me if he was, he does so try not to worry me," Alan replied tiredly. "Why? Do you think he knew something wasn't right?"

"No, but we must investigate all possible options until we find something more concrete to work with."

"You will inform me the instant you find something, right?" Alan demanded, clutching the phone tightly.

"I'll let you know how things are going," David promised.

It wasn't lost on Alan that it wasn't quite what he'd asked for, but he couldn't make himself ask for more. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle knowing all the details of what they found, not after how he'd failed to realize something had happened to his son. If he had, then David and the others could have started looking for Don Friday evening. Perhaps Don would have been found by now and be recuperating on the couch from whatever had happened to him. Instead, the search was only just starting now, late Monday morning. This meant Donny had been missing for over two full days already.

Alan closed his eyes as he thought about that. How could his eldest have been missing for that long without anyone being the wiser? Why did Don have to be so damn secretive about everything? If only he'd told someone else about his plans for the weekend, then they'd have known that something had happened to him and raised the alarm sooner.

"Alan? Are you still there?" David questioned, the concern indicating it hadn't been the first time he'd said his name.

"Yeah, sorry," Alan replied, forcing himself to focus.

"I'm going to send a few agents by the house with some equipment that I want installed on the phones."

"Huh?"

"It's in the unlikely event that someone contacts you about Don."

"You don't think they will?"

"No. At present it looks like whatever happened to Don took place at some point Friday evening between when he left CalSci and when he was supposed to arrive at your place," David explained. "If it had been a simple kidnapping, or if whoever is responsible intended to contact you or the Bureau, then I think they would already have done so."

"But you want to cover all the bases."

"Yes, exactly."

"Okay, send them over."

On some level, Alan couldn't believe that he was going to let unknown FBI agents into his house knowing that they intended to install eavesdropping and tracing equipment on his phones. The protestor in him rebelled at the mere idea, pointing out that he only had their word that it would be removed and not used against him in the future. The father in him snarled at the protestor, determined to do anything and everything it took to get his son back. If that meant letting FBI agents run roughshod across the house and his personal life, then so be it.

**

* * *

**

**I hope you all liked seeing Alan's pov on events, even if it did mean jumping straight back to Friday briefly.  
Poor Alan, now it's his turn to feel guilty. Unfortunately for him, this is only just the beginning of the roller coaster ride.  
In case you're curious about chapter 14, while the first part takes place on Wednesday evening, most of it is dedicated to the revelation scene that wasn't in chapter 12.**


	14. Part IV: Chapter 14

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Note_: Sorry that I haven't replied to reviews left by people who have signed in, but if you take a look, you'll see that FF.N's problems are still ongoing and most reviews simply haven't registered on the system. I know people left them as I got the e-mail alerts with them, but whenever I try to hit reply, I get an error message saying the review doesn't exist. But thanks to everyone who left them, I really appreciate it!

**

* * *

**

_**Part IV: Alan: **FBI_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 14:**_

**Wednesday, 21:03  
Visitor's Parking Lot, CalSci**

Alan didn't know why he'd come back to CalSci after what had happened the last time. Don's unexplained disappearance had clearly sent Charlie on a trip and he'd lost himself in his precious numbers again, just as he had done when Margaret had gotten ill. The signs were far too familiar for him not to recognize them instantly. He'd just been shocked to see them again given all the progress Charlie had made in the past few years. He'd managed to resist it when Don had been stabbed and when Amita had been kidnapped. So he didn't understand why his youngest had succumbed to it now, when they didn't even know what had happened to Don. Or was that just it, the uncertainty of it all?

He had to admit, not knowing what had happened to his eldest, why he'd suddenly vanished without a trace, was horrible, but Alan couldn't say it was worse than waiting in the hospital as doctors fought to save Don's life. It wasn't any easier either though, just different. Then, at least, he'd known exactly where his son was and what had happened to him, now he didn't. Now he knew nothing except that _something_ had happened for not only had Don disappeared, but his car, cell, wallet and gun had been found abandoned across town from CalSci.

Colby had told him of his own unsuccessful visit to CalSci and Alan despaired of anyone but Don getting through to Charlie. Yet, despite that, he was back, supposedly ensuring that his son ate, but really seeking comfort and reassurance. When Margaret's prognosis had become fixed and Charlie had retreated into his numbers, he'd still had Don to lean on. He'd never realized just how much he'd depended on his eldest during that time until now that he wasn't there for him to do so. Don was now the one who'd been torn from them, leaving him to deal with it on his own and he wasn't sure he could do that. If it turned out that something horrible had happened to his little boy, he just didn't know how he'd cope with both that and an out-of-touch son, stuck in his own mental world.

Not wanting to think about it, Alan picked up the food he'd bought and got out of the car. Colby had mentioned that it seemed like Charlie hadn't been eating and he figured that was probably exactly what had happened. His youngest always forgot about food when he got deeply involved in a problem. He'd often wander into the house a few days later, starving, and gorge himself on whatever he could find. It wasn't exactly a healthy habit, but Alan was damned if he could figure out a way to break it. Even Margaret hadn't been able to achieve that and she'd always understood their second born best, especially when he got into one of these moods.

It was slightly disconcerting to Alan to see how deserted the campus was now, as he was used to seeing it teeming with students. According to Charlie, it was only like this for a few weeks before summer term classes started and other projects brought students and faculty alike back to campus once more. Charlie didn't normally teach during the summer months, preferring instead to use that time for collaborations and his own work. Not to mention his consulting for the FBI.

Alan shivered inexplicably as he stepped off the tarmac of the parking lot and onto the pathway. He supposed it was nerves stretched thin from both the shock and horror of Don's disappearance and the anger at his youngest. He knew he really shouldn't be so angry with Charlie, that his son couldn't exactly help it, but he was, _he_ couldn't help that.

"Charlie?" Alan called out when he reached the door to his son's office.

Not bothering to wait for a reply that might never come, Alan opened the door and entered. Any irrational hopes he might have entertained of finding his son improved were instantly dashed. The office seemed to be in an even greater state of disarray than before with papers now littering the floor as well as every available surface.

"Charlie, I brought some food," Alan said as he approached his son.

Charlie, however, seemed completely unaware of his presence, continuing his work without even the slightest pause. Alan's heart clenched as he tried to ignore the urge to just sink to the floor in defeat. He was worried, exhausted and sick with dread that something horrendous had befallen Donny. All he really wanted was a little acknowledgment from Charlie, was that really too much to ask?

**

* * *

**

**Thursday, 07:33  
Main Entrance Lobby, LA FBI Office**

Although he'd never particularly enjoyed entering the FBI building, Alan had never done it before with such mixed emotions either. Ever since receiving David's phone call half an hour ago, a strange mix of fear, dread and hope had been swirling within him. The fact that Charlie seemed to have come out of his own little world and wanted to be a part of the investigation was the cause for the hope. The strange circumstances, however, and his request that his father join them at the office worried him. He'd tried calling his youngest to find out exactly what was going on, but the call had gone straight to voicemail. While that was not so abnormal on its own, Charlie often forgot to either charge or turn his cell on, when paired with the fact that his son had contacted David via e-mail, it bothered him.

Something about this whole situation wasn't right and that made Alan fear the worst. He tried to convince himself that he was being ridiculous, after all Charlie hadn't even seen all of the data yet, so how could he possibly have anything bad to say about the situation? The feeling, however, refused to go away. Perhaps that was simply because he'd had so much time to think about what might have happened to Donny. He might not be an FBI agent or a Bureau consultant, but he too had seen some of the crime scene photos Don worked with and, more importantly, he was a father. His mind was therefore more than capable of dredging up horrible scenarios, many of which had featured in the nightmares he'd occasionally had since Don had announced he was joining the FBI.

Quickly breezing through security, Alan found the elevator he was in rapidly approaching Don's floor. In some ways it was doing so far too rapidly as a part of him wanted to run away, terrified of what he might learn. The other part of him urged the elevator on, wanting to see Charlie and the miracle he was sure to have come up with. When the doors finally slid open, he had to force himself out of the car before it was called to another floor.

As usual, the bullpen was abuzz with activity as agents went about their business, but Alan thought he could detect an uncharacteristic undercurrent of anger and grimness that wasn't normally there. He couldn't be sure if he was just imagining it or not. Whenever he'd been by the past few days, people had always assured him they were doing everything they could to find Don and he believed them. The anger and determination in their eyes had been easily visible and it comforted him somewhat. Ironically, the whole 'one of our own' attitude that he'd hated so much during his activist days- how _dare_ they act like their lives or safety were more important?- was now a source of solace to him. He _knew_, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they would do everything humanly possible to find and rescue Don.

If he could still be rescued.

Alan slammed the lid down on that thought and made his way toward David and Colby's cubicle. As he neared it, he spotted his son pacing back and forth in an otherwise deserted room off to the side. He headed towards it instead, his heart sinking as he took in the appearance of his youngest. Charlie was very pale and looked like he hadn't slept in days. His face seemed gaunt and Alan knew he hadn't been eating properly, probably hadn't even realized his father had left him dinner just last night. The agitation in every line of his body, however, was what caused real fear to clench in his gut and chase out the stubborn hope he'd clung to as the start of the weekend neared and with it the rapid approach of the one week mark since anyone had last seen Don.

"Alan, you made it," David said as he suddenly appeared, Colby and Nikki in tow.

"How long has he been like this?" Alan asked, gesturing at Charlie.

"Not long, he only arrived ten minutes ago."

"Has he said anything?"

"Only that he wanted to wait until you were here. Can we get you something to drink?"

"No, I don't think that's such a good idea," Alan replied, walking to the room's glass door and opening it.

"Dad," Charlie whispered.

"Charlie," Alan acknowledged, crossing the room in a few steps.

He didn't like the worry and desperation he could so easily see in his son's eyes. At first he thought it was due to the fact that Charlie was only just starting to realize what was going on, but then, suddenly, he knew that wasn't true. Alan wasn't sure how he came by this knowledge, if it was simply a parent's intuition or whether Charlie had given something away with his body language, but it came to him nonetheless.

"You know," Alan stated bluntly. "You know what's happened to your brother."

"Y- yes," Charlie acknowledged, startled.

"What?" Nikki exclaimed. "You knew and you didn't tell us right away?"

"Nikki, leave him alone. I'm sure Charlie had a very good reason for whatever he did or didn't do," David stated sharply.

The words caused Charlie to flinch slightly and Alan staggered back to one of the chairs placed around the table to the left of the room.

"What's happened to Donny?" Alan asked, his voice trembling. "Is he alright?"

The way his son seemed to hunch in into himself at the question nearly made Alan moan as his fears were confirmed. _Oh God, Donny!_

"No," Charlie finally managed, his eyes desperate as he looked at them. "He's not okay. You have to get him out of there or he'll kill him! He'll kill Don and enjoy it. I tried, Dad, you need to believe me, I tried, but I can't do it, not fast enough."

The words froze Alan in place. _Kill Don._ It was just like in one of his nightmares and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach as he thought of how those always ended.

"Whoa, whoa, easy, Charlie," Colby said, gently guiding him to the chair opposite his father's. "Why don't we start with the basics? Do you know where Don is being held?"

"No."

"Do you know who's holding him?" David asked.

"I know one of them and have seen another," Charlie said before looking up at Colby. "That fugitive you mentioned-"

"Darien Frazer?"

"Yeah, do you have a photo of him?"

Alan nearly cursed aloud at the words. The fugitive. David had told him about the man when they'd first gotten word of him late Monday. Although he'd always hated Don's Fugitive Recovery time and had feared greatly for his safety during it, it had never occurred to him to worry about one of those men coming back for Donny later.

"Yes, here," Nikki said, pulling a picture from one of the boards lining the room.

"That's him, that was the other man," Charlie stated as soon as he looked at it. "You have to find Don, Frazer's gonna kill him if you don't."

"Are you sure?" David asked before he shook his head. "No, wait, how about we start at the beginning? What time did Don leave CalSci Friday evening?"

"It didn't start on Friday, it started on Thursday when Special Agent Jeremy Banner came to see me," Charlie informed them as the others took seats.

"FBI?" Nikki questioned.

"No, NSA. He's one of the agents I've worked with before in DC."

Not seeing where this was going, Alan had to bite down the urge to ask Charlie to skip ahead to what this had to do with his brother's disappearance. The questions Don's team kept asking didn't help much either, but he noticed that Charlie seemed to be getting calmer. It was as if he finally felt he was accomplishing something, so he forced himself to be patient even as they went straight past Friday and Saturday without any word of what had befallen Don.

"So what did you do about your suspicions?" David asked.

"Nothing, I didn't have a chance to as Banner came back to see me," Charlie replied. "He tried to placate me, but I said I'd call Bob, Assistant Director Thompkins that is, as it didn't feel right. That's when he showed me the photos."

"Photos?" Alan demanded, straightening.

The change in Charlie's tone indicated he'd finally arrived at something relating to Don. The sudden quiver that accompanied it didn't do anything to ease his nerves, but he _had_ to know.

"Yeah," Charlie pulled out several Polaroid sized pictures from his pocket, his eyes drawn to them. "He said they'd release Don if I hacked the security for them."

Alan snatched up the first photo his son pushed across the table before any of the agents could grab it. This time he did moan as he caught sight of Donny, injured and tied down. He hardly heard the sharply indrawn breath from David as he leaned in for a look. All Alan could see was his eldest, every single bruise and cut standing out like a neon sign. The blood on Don's shirt worried him the most, a terrible echo of the events from just a few short months ago. The photo had almost instantly burned itself into his memory, so when David gently tugged it from his fingers, he let it go, needing to see the others.

"I assume he threatened Don's life if you didn't cooperate," Nikki said, her face pale with anger.

Charlie merely nodded, seeming to be at a loss for words as he put another photo on the table and pushed it away from himself. David reacted faster this time and managed to snag it before Alan could, but not before he'd caught a glimpse of it.

"Is... is that a gun?" Alan demanded, voice quivering as his mouth went dry.

The hardening of the agent's eyes as he studied the photo confirmed his fears, but Alan knew he had to see it again for himself. Leaning over, he craned his neck for a look and was forced to close his eyes when he caught sight of the Polaroid. Yes, it had been a gun he'd seen and it was pressed right up against Donny's temple. He could suddenly understand why Charlie hadn't been eating as his own breakfast threatened to make a reappearance.

The only somewhat comforting thing was that Don was clearly still himself. He'd recognize that defiant look anywhere, not to mention the anger. Given the extent of the rage he could see, Alan knew that his son was aware of why he'd been abducted. Don had always been protective of Charlie, ever since he'd been a baby, so to know he was being used to force his little brother's cooperation... it had to be horrible for him. He could only imagine what had gone through his son's head when he'd learned the truth.

"I take it he also threatened Don's life if you came to us?" Colby prodded gently though his face was a mask of barely contained anger.

"Yeah. He said one of the men involved, Frazer, really didn't like FBI agents and had to be restrained from hurting Don any more."

"You couldn't do it?" Alan questioned. "You couldn't do what they wanted?"

"I think I can," Charlie replied defensively before he deflated. "But... not fast enough. I've been working on it since Banner first came to me and I'm still not through it."

The next few questions were asked and answered almost without Alan hearing them. If Charlie couldn't do the math fast enough, then what hope did Don have? His youngest had already said that he didn't know where his brother was being held, so how was the FBI to rescue him? Sure, they'd do their best, but given that this Banner and Frazer had already had his eldest for nearly a week, would there be enough time? How much longer were they willing to wait before they decided their plan wasn't going to work?

Before they decided to cut their losses and go?

"What about the other photos?" Alan demanded suddenly, seeing the two his son still clutched.

"They were given to me later," Charlie said hollowly. "As incentive."

"When?" Nikki asked.

"The first on Tuesday, before Colby came by. Banner came back to ensure that I didn't speak with you or let you bring me here."

Charlie shot this Polaroid away from himself with so much force that Colby's grab missed it and Alan was able to catch a good look at it. The multicolored bruise stood out against Don's pale skin like a flare and it caused the breath to catch in his lungs even before he managed to take in the other injuries. Once more, a noise escaped from him, but it wasn't nearly coherent enough to be called a moan and Alan dropped his face into his hands, unable to look at the damage wrecked upon his little boy.

His hand... the burns... The nausea welled in him once more and this time he could taste it in his mouth though he managed to force it back down. There was still one more photo and Alan had to see it. He had to know if anything else had been done to Donny.

"Charlie," David began tentatively as he passed the photo to Colby. "Did Banner provide you with anything else when he gave you this?"

"No, why?"

"Well... ah, how do you know it was taken on Tuesday?"

"That's when Banner gav-" Charlie cut off as a look of understanding and horror flashed across his face as Alan lifted his head once more. "You think it's old? That it was taken before?"

"I'm saying that it could have been."

It took Alan a moment to figure out the real meaning behind David's question, but when he did, it froze him in place. The agent feared the photo could be old and might not present an accurate representation of Donny's current condition. If that were the case and Don's true condition was already worse than the picture depicted on Tuesday, then what was it like today? Was his son even still alive? Charlie seemed to think so, but if he'd been wrong about the date of the Polaroids, then were his thoughts still valid?

"What about the other photo?" Nikki asked, indicating the one Charlie still held. "Does it contain anything that proves what day it was taken on?"

"No," Charlie replied hollowly as he stared at it, clearly devastated.

**

* * *

**

**Well, slightly longer than normal, that is chapter 14, I hope you liked it. As you can see, it contains the first part of the scene to which I referred to earlier. The rest of it makes up the whole of chapter 15, which will be up soon. Normally I'd say Friday, but I'm traveling that day and FF.N is still acting up, so I can't promise it will go up then, though I'll definitely try.  
Not sure if you noticed it or not, but I couldn't help but make Alan shiver as he passed the place where Don was assaulted at CalSci. He wrote it off as nerves and the emotions from what has happened, but we know better!**


	15. Part IV: Chapter 15

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Note_: Okay, it looks like FF.N is back to normal now and all of those in limbo reviews came through at once. Thanks to everyone who took the time to submit one!

**

* * *

**

_**Part IV: Alan: **FBI_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 15:**_

**Thursday, 08:02  
Violent Crimes Squad War Room A, LA FBI Office**

"He's been drugged," Colby stated suddenly, staring hard at the photo he held before passing it back to David.

"What?" Charlie demanded sharply. "What makes you think that?"

"His eyes."

"Yeah, I see it," David said wearily, putting the photo down on the table. "Shit."

"See what?" Alan demanded, snatching up the photo and looking intently at his son.

"It's the quality of his stare, it's not fully focused," Colby explained with a little gesture of his hand. "It's hard to describe if you've never seen it for real."

"Why would they be drugging him?"

"To control him," Nikki stated quietly though her eyes were angry.

"But, they've got him tied down!"

"They're obviously afraid that he could cause them problems despite that," David said, running his hand over his face in a gesture so reminiscent of Don when he was stressed that it hurt.

Alan couldn't quite see what the three of them were referring to, but he trusted them to know what they were talking about. It was strange, and wrong, to think of his eldest like this, as though he was dangerous enough to warrant being drugged to control him, even when he was quite literally bound hand and foot to a chair. It was something he'd often struggled with over the years ever since Don had told Margaret and himself that he was joining the FBI. Above and beyond his dislike of the Bureau and all that it represented, he didn't like to think of his son, his baby boy, touching and handling weapons. To think of him as dangerous... he did his best not to think about it too much most of the time.

Don was his son, the rambunctious and precocious child who had caused him to come close to a heart attack on far too many occasions with his insatiable curiosity and the drive to discover the answers for himself. Unlike Charlie who had driven Margaret and himself nearly insane with his constant 'why's, Don had almost always taken it upon himself to discover the truth. Like where the koi went when they ducked out of sight beneath the rocks- before he knew how to swim. Or what the baby birds looked like in their nest- at the top of the tree. The list was varied and endless; even back then Donnie had seemed to be fearless.

So to think of his little boy, who used to love cuddling on his and Margaret's laps before Charlie came along, as dangerous was not only difficult, it was just plain wrong. To think of him as being such a big threat that tying him up wasn't enough to render him both helpless and safe to his captors... Alan just couldn't imagine it. Yes, he knew better than almost anyone else exactly how stubborn his son could be, but to go that far? Maybe he was better off not knowing exactly why they'd think Don was that dangerous. Though he complained at times that his eldest didn't share enough, he could admit that there were some things he was better off not knowing. Like that time Don had bluffed his way into getting someone to surrender instead of detonating a bomb.

One thing Alan knew for sure, though. With these men treating Donny as if he was that dangerous, deserved or not, they were making it impossible for him to escape on his own. Bound and drugged, he was completely helpless and at their mercy. The question was whether any true mercy would be shown him. Just looking at what had already been done to his son, to the damage inflicted upon him, Alan felt that the chances of that were very slim indeed. The reactions of Don's team didn't give him any hope that his assessment was wrong either.

"Is this why you decided to contact us?" Colby asked gently, though his fists remained tightly clenched and his eyes spat fire as they looked at the photo.

"N- no," Charlie admitted reluctantly as he shoved the fourth and final photo upside down onto the table as if it were burning him.

Unsure whether he could handle any more, Alan was amazed to see his hand reaching forwards instantly, unable to _not_ look. Before he could touch it, though, David's hand reached out and gently grasped his wrist.

"You don't have to do this."

"Yes, yes I do."

"Alan-"

"Please."

"Dad, maybe it's better if you don't look," Charlie stated when David caved and released his wrist.

"Then you shouldn't have told me about this meeting," Alan said, grabbing the Polaroid and turning it over.

All it took was one look at the photo and Alan lost the battle against his nausea, barely making it to the trashcan just three feet away before he brought up everything he'd had for breakfast.

"Dad!"

"Alan!"

The cries hardly reached him as Alan tried desperately to get rid of the image before his eyes. It was all in vain, though he'd only seen the Polaroid for a few seconds, it was permanently burned into his mind. It seared as brightly across his eyelids as if he were holding the picture before him. He had never been squeamish about blood, but this was Donny's blood, his baby's blood, that was covering his boy. The knowledge that the wounds had been inflicted by what was undoubtedly a knife was almost worse than the sight of all the blood.

As clear as day, Alan could recall the look in Don's eyes as he'd followed the motions of the kitchen knife that he'd used to perform innocuous chores since that horrible night. What would have been running through Don's head when this had been done to him? Had he thought back to Radovic and the stabbing? Had he feared it happening again?

"Dad?"

"I'm done," Alan merely said as he leaned back, taking a few deep breaths.

"Here, take this," Nikki said, offering a glass of water.

"Thanks."

It took him a few moments, but Alan finally managed to pull himself together enough to get to his feet and allow David to guide him back to his chair. He could see the looks being passed between the agents and decided to cut them off before they could get any ideas.

"I'm not leaving."

"Alan, I think it would be best if-" David began.

"No."

"But-"

"No."

"Really-"

"No. I am _not_ leaving, not until I hear everything Charlie has to say," Alan declared firmly.

He'd spent far too much time this week already not knowing. The uncertainty of Donny's fate had eaten away at him, his imagination running wild. Yes, what he'd seen and heard so far today were horrendous and killed off all of the remaining hope he'd somehow held on to that things would turn out better than everyone feared, but at least now he knew. There was no more void where anything and everything was possible.

His determination must have come across as the others retook their seats, albeit reluctantly.

"The shirt," Colby began awkwardly.

"My thoughts exactly," David said.

"What?" Charlie demanded.

"He's wearing a new one," Colby explained softly.

"Yeah, so?"

"Why would they give him a new one after they ripped his old one off? It's probably because there is something they didn't want you to see or know about."

"More?" Alan croaked.

"I'm afraid so," Colby confirmed, causing a small cry to escape Charlie.

"When did Banner bring you this one? Today?" Nikki inquired after a few seconds of silence, her expression pinched.

"He didn't. Bring it, I mean."

"Was it Frazer?" David probed, perking up now that he had something else to turn his attention to.

"Yeah."

"What made you think he might be the fugitive Colby had mentioned to you?"

"The way he was acting," Charlie shrugged, the manner in which his son's eyes flickered to him caused Alan's heart to sink impossibly further. "It seemed... personal. He- he kept talking about 'playing' with Don."

Alan moaned in distress and he noticed his youngest's hands had started to shake though he'd interlaced his fingers in an effort to hide it. His eyes were drawn back to the photos of their own volition and Alan felt the bile rise in his throat again as he noted the rapid increase in wounds his eldest possessed in each subsequent photo. If David was right in thinking that all of them, even the most recent with all the blood, were old and out-of-date... He didn't even want to contemplate what his boy might look like now, but his mind was more than willing to provide a multitude of options, all in glorious Technicolor and even with surround sound to show him what Donny might have sounded like as they were acquired.

"That's why you think he might kill Don?" Colby inquired.

"Yeah. He... said it didn't really matter to him if I took a long time to solve the problem, as it would give him more time with Don. And his eyes, they seemed to practically glow when he spoke of that, of 'playing.'"

"Unfortunately that fits with what we've heard of Frazer and what he threatened to do to Don," David stated.

"What about you?" Colby questioned. "Did he do anything to you? Or did he just reinforce what Banner had said and give you the fourth photo?"

"He... he had a knife," Charlie stated after a short pause and Alan felt his heart stop.

_Both_ of his sons? This man, this monster, had threatened _both_ of his boys? Although Charlie looked fine, he had the sudden urge to strip him and check to make sure that his youngest didn't have any hidden injuries like they assumed Don did. But that didn't make any sense, why would Charlie try and hide away injuries? There was no logical reason for it and, unlike his older brother, Charlie had never had the inclination to do so. It didn't lessen the urge to clutch his youngest to him as he was unable to do so with his eldest.

"Did he threaten you with the knife?" Nikki asked, breaking Alan out of his thoughts. "Did he hurt you with it?"

"No, he didn't hurt me with it, he said- said I'd be no fun as I'd already showed him fear."

It was a good thing the table was so sturdy, Alan thought as he gripped it hard enough that his knuckles turned white. He didn't need David's sharply indrawn breath or Colby's cursing to explain that one to him.

Oh, Donny!

His courageous, headstrong boy. Not for the first time, he wished that his eldest wasn't so stoic and stubborn. Alan had no doubt that he'd try and resist his captors in any way that he could, his expression on the first two photos proved that and, from the sounds of it, it was exactly that part of Don this man, Darien Frazer, enjoyed. Or rather, he enjoyed breaking through that mask. He could only hope that in smashing it, he also didn't break his son.

Much as it felt like things couldn't get any worse unless they actually killed Don, Alan only needed to look at his youngest's face to know that he was wrong, horribly wrong.

"It- the knife, it..."

"It was what, Charlie?" Colby asked softly, as if speaking any louder would make things worse.

"It was covered in blood."

The words hung in the air, no one making a sound as they penetrated. Alan didn't know for certain what was going through the minds of Don's teammates, but given how they all paled, he could take a good guess. Unlike himself and Charlie, they had actually seen Don right after he'd been stabbed; they'd have seen the blood and tried frantically to stop its flow as they waited for the ambulance to arrive. He himself hadn't and he was forever thankful for that. Knowing it had happened had been terrible enough, to actually see it...

Not that he wouldn't have been there in a heartbeat if it had been at all possible.

Charlie was breathing quite quickly now and his eyes had a faraway look to them as he repeated. "He... Frazer, he kept saying that he didn't mind if it took me a long time to solve the problem as it gave him more time to... play."

"Bastard!" Colby hissed through tightly clenched teeth. "When I get my hands on him, I'll-"

"Arrest him," David interrupted sharply, the look passing between the two of them clearly charged with something.

Alan wasn't sure what to make of it, but didn't really try to, instead closing his eyes as he tuned them out. _Play_. The word seemed so innocent, so childlike, that to hear it used in conjunction with the blood stained knife Frazer had shown Charlie and the Polaroids that clearly depicted what was being done to Don made it a hundred times worse. Kids were supposed to play, with a ball or toys or grown-up stuff. Not with knives or guns or whatever else had been used on his son. It was supposed to signify innocent joy, not... not the infliction of pain simply for... for...

Oh God, for the joy of hurting someone. Alan swallowed thickly at the thought but he knew inescapably that _that_ was what they were dealing with here. Someone who did it because he liked seeing Donny in pain. A man who enjoyed watching his son hurt and seeing fear enter his eyes. Would he be successful? Alan honestly didn't know, normally he'd be tempted to say no, knowing Don's stubbornness only all too well. The knife, however, changed things drastically after what had happened so recently. The fact that Frazer had chosen to show Charlie _that_ of all things meant that he had to at least know about Don having been stabbed. Despite the fact that they had never discussed it, Alan knew that Don was more affected by what had happened to him than he let on. He'd seen the way his son's eyes had tracked the sharp blades he used in the kitchen to chop vegetables and meat. It had taken everything he had not to falter and hide the knives from view, but the knowledge that it would most likely make things worse had allowed him to pretend that he hadn't noticed the telling look. The thought that Frazer had similarly uncovered Don's- what was it exactly? Fear, apprehension, weakness?- for knives didn't bode well and he struggled to keep his stomach under control.

He opened his eyes and looked around, desperately hoping for a distraction, but one look at Charlie's face dashed all of his hopes.

"What else is there?" Alan croaked, not recognizing his own voice.

Charlie shook his head, eyes wide and pleading with him not to ask again.

"Charlie, is there something else we need to know?" David questioned, his tone strained.

Unable to answer verbally, Charlie nodded, his eyes darting back to look at him and Alan wondered what else there could possibly be. What the hell else had this animal done to his baby boy? What else was there to do? How much more... torture was Donny to undergo before they managed to get him out?

_If_ they-

No! Alan slammed the lid down on that particular thought. He could not go there; he would _not_ entertain that particular thought. They _were_ going to get Don free and away from that man, and they'd do it soon. It was just a matter of time. That was all.

No longer able to resist, Alan reached out and grasped one of Charlie hands in both of his own, the physical connection reassuring him that at least one of his boys was safe and sound. The desperation and need for him to make this stop, to make it better, that he could see within Charlie's eyes was difficult to bear as it only enhanced his own helplessness.

"Alan-"

"No," Alan countered firmly, not letting David get any further. "I'm not leaving. This is about Donny, I need to stay. I need to know. Charlie, please?"

Charlie caved under his gaze, his free hand coming up to clutch his tightly before he turned to look at the others. "He licked it. Frazer licked the blood off the knife and said... said..."

"What did he say?" Nikki coaxed as Colby leapt to his feet, clearly unable to remain seated any longer.

"That federal blood tasted exquisite."

**

* * *

**

**There you go, the second part of the revelation scene, I hope you liked it. This chapter almost didn't get posted due to internet problems, but they seem to be under control now.  
This chapter wraps up Part IV and the Alan pov, next we move on to Part V where we return to Don's pov. I thought I knew how many chapters it would contain, but it just keeps growing on me, so I'm not even going to try and guess what it will be. Suffice it to say, it will be the longest part of the fic.**


	16. Part V: Chapter 16

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Note_: I'd just like to take the time to thank everyone who has left reviews, favorited the fic or placed it on story alert, it is really appreciated. As you may have noticed, this fic now has more than 100 reviews, which has totally blown me away. Thanks guys!

**

* * *

**

_**Part V: Don: **Basement_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 16:**_

**Monday, 15:28  
Basement, Unknown Location**

This was really starting to get old, Don thought as he woke to find himself slumped awkwardly in the chair. On the bright side, his mind seemed clearer than it had for the past few days and he could only assume the drug had worn off overnight and his exhausted body had slipped into a natural sleep in order to better heal itself.

Since he couldn't hear anything, Don slowly opened his eyes and looked around, relieved to find himself completely alone for once. Using the opportunity, he took stock of his injuries and the various other bodily complaints. His muscles were stiff and sore from having been kept in the same position for so long. His neck, in particular, hurt from the awkward angle he'd held his head at while unconscious or asleep. His lower back throbbed from the kick to the kidney he'd received, but it felt a bit better than before despite the way Frazer had jabbed at it yesterday. His chest was sending him two distinct signals, the first from the pain of the infected cut and the burn and the second from the cold.

A jolt of fear shot through Don as he recalled the events surrounding the removal of his dress shirt, but he forced it aside, needing to concentrate on other matters while he had a clear mind. Who knew how long it would be before Keane or one of the others decided he needed another dose of sedative? Or some other form of attention...

No, he couldn't think about that at present, nothing productive could come of it. Instead, Don looked down at his chest, trying to determine how bad the wounds were. The cut was an angry red, while the burn was blistering and peeling already. Where the two intersected, though, the burn took on the same hue as the cut and he feared that the infection was spreading. He cursed and took stock of his face, which felt much the same as before except for the burns on his cheek and throat, the latter of which he felt every time he swallowed.

Finally Don turned his attention to his left hand, by far the most painful of his injuries. As he'd feared, it had swelled, putting additional pressure on his wrist where the rope tied it down. Despite the fiery pain it already sent down his arm, Don carefully tried to move the fingers, assessing how much damage had been done and whether or not he'd be able to use it if necessary. The agony that resulted had him quickly rethinking his strategy and he reluctantly concluded that he probably wouldn't be able to use it without fear of causing him to black out at a critical moment.

_If_ it ever came to that.

Not one to normally ever contemplate defeat, Don was forced to acknowledge that his chances were slim indeed. Not only had he already been held prisoner for over two and a half days, but his condition had only gotten worse the more time went on. The near orgasmic look on Frazer's face when he'd so stupidly given away his aversion to knives flashed before his eyes once more and he swallowed hard, fighting off fear that bordered on terror.

What the hell was wrong with him? He'd never been this afraid of knives before. Yes, he'd always respected the danger they represented and the damage they could do in the wrong set of hands, but nothing like this. Like before, on Friday evening, Don suddenly felt the agony of a blade stabbing into his chest as the memories of Radovic surfaced once more. He swore he could feel the cold length of sharp steel as it sliced easily though tissue and organs first one way and then the other as Radovic pulled it back out before dropping him like so much garbage. Don had to fight his way out of the memory, away from the horrible sensation of bleeding to death even as his own blood started to fill his lung, slowly drowning him.

Finally Don managed to successfully wretch himself free from the memory, but he was left drenched in sweat, panting desperately for breath. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his good hand, focusing on the pain of his short nails biting into his palm. Okay, so having been stabbed had clearly affected him far more deeply than he'd realized. Yes, he'd had the normal flashbacks to what had happened initially, but he'd had additional sessions with Bradford and discussed what had happened and had thought he'd dealt with it. Obviously not, given the recent flashbacks he'd had twice now.

Don had never experienced anything quite like this before, not even after the first time he'd been shot. What was so different about his experience with Radovic? Why this gut wrenching terror with knives? A gun could cause just as much damage if used correctly. As his mind turned to all that Frazer would be able to do with his knife now that he knew Don feared them, he tried to force it back to the matter at hand. He obviously couldn't afford to wait any longer to try and escape as soon he'd be in no condition to do anything.

_"Bet you'd look real pretty covered in blood."_

Frazer's voice echoed so clearly in his head that Don looked around, expecting to see him in the basement. There was still no one, though, and he tried to force his body to relax, afraid the tension would sap the remainder of his strength.

_"Once I'm done with you, perhaps I'll go pay your old partner a little visit as well, maybe take him a souvenir. Something to remember you by before I kill him. Bet he'd like that."_

Don squeezed his eyes shut again and tried to force the memories down. He had to think about getting out of here, not about what was likely to happen to him if he didn't. Okay, the best thing was to run through this like it was a normal case and not something personal.

First, what did he know for certain?

This whole thing had been organized by a man named Blakely who had a client interested in top secret information that the NSA possessed. Said client was willing to pay handsomely for the retrieval of the information, so much so that both Banner and Frazer expected to get a million dollars each out of the deal. This information, which he did not know any specifics about, was protected by some type of security that was math related. Security that Blakely thought Charlie could hack or overcome in some other manner. The problem was that Blakely was most likely correct, chances were that Charlie _would_ be able to do what they wanted him to.

The thougt made Don's anger reignite, which was good as it helped him ignore the fear that still lingered at the edge of his mind. The fact that they were using him to force Charlie into betraying all that he stood for and to help Blakely gain access to information that would surely cause severe damage to the country or its inhabitants left a bad taste in his mouth. He'd rather die than be used like this, as a pawn to be moved about at will by his enemies. The problem was that Charlie didn't know what he was working on. He didn't know the stakes involved or just how catastrophic the results could be if the wrong information got stolen from the NSA.

The thing was, even if Charlie did know all of this, Don wasn't sure if his little brother would be able to act any differently than he currently was. He wasn't sure if he himself would be able to make that decision if either Charlie or Dad's life hung in the balance. That meant he had to alter the status quo and take himself out of the equation somehow. It was thoughts like that which really showed how much time he'd been spending around his brother lately.

On the verge of veering off course again, Don forced himself to focus and was surprised to realize how much he knew about what was going on, but then, Keane had not been too secretive about most of it. Which was a large part of exactly why he'd known he wasn't supposed to survive this before Keane had confirmed his suspicions. What he didn't know, unfortunately, was nearly equally as long of a list.

He didn't have a clue as to what information Blakely's client was after. He knew it had to be extremely valuable given what the person was obviously willing to pay for its retrieval and the fact that Blakely felt they needed someone like Charlie to crack the security involved. Don didn't want to sound arrogant, but there had to be easier mathematicians to target if the math involved wasn't of the highest level. There had to be ones who didn't have family in law enforcement whose disappearance would trigger an automatic federal investigation.

He also didn't know what kind of damage the client would be able to wreck with this information.

Not really wanting to contemplate the possibilities too closely, Don shifted his attention towards those behind the whole scheme. He knew next to nothing about the client and Blakely, save that the latter had access to his records and was smart enough to realize the danger he posed to them if left unchecked. It was kind of flattering in a way, though it was the cause of his current predicament. Next was Keane, most likely former special forces and the man in charge of carrying out the actual operation. He didn't know how much contact Keane may have with Blakely at present, but he was clearly the one calling the shots here.

Banner and Frazer had obviously been brought into it for their connections with Charlie and himself, respectively. Banner was also a vital piece of the puzzle due to his ability to walk in and out of the NSA headquarters at will. No one would think twice of his comings and goings as he was supposed to be there. The same held true for Geek, whoever he was. Don was pretty sure he was a cryptologist or computer expert of some sort, so he'd work in a different part of the complex from Banner, but his movements would be pretty unrestricted as compared to a stranger who didn't work there.

Wait. Don frowned as he went back over the list. Frazer. Why exactly was the man here? Why was he a part of this crew? Yes, he knew Don from before, but unlike what Keane had planned with Charlie, that didn't really make a big difference to the whole plan. At least not as he understood it, was he still missing something? As far as he could tell, Frazer's role so far had only been to help capture him, which he was sure Keane and Banner could have managed on their own. Frazer's only other job was going to be killing him, which was again something one of the others could manage. So why was Frazer here? Despite his background in high tech crimes, he didn't seem to be doing any of the actual computer work involved, which made sense if Don was correct in thinking that George Frazer has been the one to take care of those aspects of their crimes.

It didn't make any sense. Not only could Don not think of anything specific Frazer might be needed for, but the man was also a serious liability in his own way. He hardly seemed willing to follow Keane's orders half the time and would probably stop doing even that soon. He was an uncontrolled individual in an otherwise very professional crew. All of which meant that there had to be a reason for his inclusion, a very specific one too that only he could fulfill or Keane would never have brought him on board.

Banner had mentioned something about Frazer needing to make certain preparations, but again, Don didn't see what the man would be able to provide that the others couldn't do themselves. Frazer had been in prison for the better part of the past decade, all of his old connections would be long gone by now. So what was Keane planning? His earlier thoughts about the type of death he'd get at Frazer's hands and how Keane's regret made no sense returned to him. Was that it? Was Frazer here precisely because of _what_ he wanted to do to him?

Don forced the images the question generated aside and made himself focus solely on the issue itself. Keane, while potentially finding torture distasteful, struck him as someone who could and would use it as a means to an end under the right circumstances. He also didn't seem to be the type to shy away from doing the dirty work, so if an ugly death was somehow a necessity for their plans, he could well have taken care of it himself. So why had Frazer been brought in? What was it about the fugitive that made him necessary to Blakely's plan? The man seemed averse to taking risks that weren't required for his plan to succeed and yet bringing Frazer and his volatile temper onboard was a big risk.

Try as he might, Don was unable to come up with the answer to his question. Vexed, he was forced to put the question aside as he turned his attention towards the remaining member of the crew. Like Frazer, Geek didn't exactly fit the profile of a member of a highly trained professional, but his skills in other areas more than made up for that. There was no question what his role in this scheme was. The fact that he lacked Charlie's brilliance with math was made up for the fact that he clearly knew his computer code and had access to the NSA databases. He was probably the one who had gotten the data Charlie would need to hack the security guarding whatever it was they were after.

Geek and Banner were two sides of the same coin, both necessary to penetrate the security of the NSA headquarters and steal some highly sensitive information from within. What didn't make as much sense were the emotions he'd seen Geek display since he'd woken to find him present Saturday morning. Surely the boy must have known they were planning to abduct and hold captive a federal agent in order to force Charlie to cooperate with them. So why all the fear? He acted like a cornered animal half the time instead of a-

Don froze as the pieces suddenly clicked together in his mind, painting a very ugly picture. Although he'd noticed the boy's reactions earlier, he'd been far too caught up in his own dire situation and what Keane was planning to do to Charlie to fully process and understand what it all meant. Not with the drugs in his system, clouding his mind. Now, however, with a clear head, it seemed stupidly clear.

Geek wasn't here voluntarily.

The boy hadn't come onboard after being tempted with money only to discover that things looked a whole lot different when the theoretical captive became a real person with the ability to both feel and voice pain when brutalized. No, he'd been coerced into this somehow. Keane must be holding something, or more probably someone, over him. The man was doing the same thing to Geek that he was to Charlie, only in this case he needed Geek with him while the person being used as a pawn was either unaware of the situation at all or being held elsewhere.

The revelation caused mixed feelings within Don. He hated the thought of anyone else in danger or of Geek being threatened with a loved one like Charlie was, but it meant that there was one less person standing between him and freedom should he make an escape attempt. It didn't change much, and probably made the situation worse in the long run, but in his present predicament, he'd take everything he could get.

The opening of the door caused Don to tense up, all other thoughts freezing as he waited to see who it was. As Geek stepped into the basement, holding a small tray bearing a glass, a large bottle of water and a plate with what smelled like instant mac and cheese, he relaxed though he kept his eyes trained on the boy. It took him a second to realize that Don was both awake and watching him, but when he did he stopped short, clearly hesitating before he looked at what he held before approaching the restrained agent.

"I- are you thirsty?"

"Yes," Don replied, trying not to lick his dry lips at the thought of getting a drink.

"Ah... okay, just give me a sec," Geek stated, walking to the desk so he could put the tray down and open the bottle.

"What's your name?" Don inquired gently.

"Huh? Me... my name?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Well, it would be easier if I had something to call you. If you don't want me to know your real name, then make something up, it beats letting me come up with something on my own. I'm liable to choose something you won't like, like Geek."

The words had the intended effect, washing away the fear and nervousness the boy clearly still felt with a new emotion. Oh, yeah, Don had definitely hit the nerve he'd intended.

"You call your brother that too?" Geek demanded angrily.

"Charlie? Nah, he's Chuck, or Chuckles, depending on my mood or what he's done," Don replied honestly, changing tactics again in the hope of establishing a rapport with the man.

They needed to stick together if they were to get out of this alive. He wasn't sure if Geek was aware of it or not, but though he didn't have the training or background to make him dangerous in Blakely or Keane's eyes like he himself was, by having been here, interacting with Keane, Banner and Frazer, he'd seen and knew too much. He was just as much of a liability to them as he himself was and, therefore, would be dealt with as soon as his role in this scheme was completed. Don just wasn't sure if he should point that out or whether it would be better to keep quiet on the matter. He didn't know Geek well enough to be able to judge how that particular knowledge would affect him.

**

* * *

**

**Viola, the first chapter of Part V. This will be the longest part of the fic; it's currently 6 chapters and still growing!  
As you can see, Don is slowly starting to figure things out and putting the pieces of the puzzle together. He's not completely there just yet, but he's got most of what he needs to figure things out. So do you, by the way.  
Did anyone see the truth of Geek's situation coming?  
Unfortunately we've now caught up with what I've managed to send to my betas. I'm hoping to get chapters 17-21 to them today or tomorrow, but they'll need a bit of time to look things over. However, since this coincides with a planned holiday of mine where I'll be away without internet access, it doesn't really affect the posting schedule as I wouldn't be able to post the next chapter on Friday anyway.  
So, sorry, but it will be at least a week before the next chapter goes up.**


	17. Part V: Chapter 17

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Note_: Hey, guys, I'm back! Sorry for the wait, but here's the next chapter.

**

* * *

**

_**Part V: Don: **Basement_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 17:**_

**Monday, 15:53  
Basement, Unknown Location**

"Oh," Geek blinked owlishly at him, the thick glasses making it look quite ridiculous, as he processed that little tidbit. "Ah... my name's Lawson. Greg Lawson."

"Hello, Greg, I'm Don Eppes, though I'm sure you already knew that," Don replied, pretty certain he'd gotten the boy's real name.

"Yeah."

"Can I- can I have some of that water?" Don asked.

He was trying to keep his attention on Lawson and to not look longingly at the water Lawson seemingly forgotten about. Don was parched, his lips cracking and his throat so dry it tasted like something had crawled down it and died. Keane had given him some water and toast last night after he'd managed to cajole Frazer into leaving him alone for the time being, but the drugs had dehydrated him badly and the small glass had hardly helped at all. If he'd known he'd get so little, he would have taken a drink from the tap during his trip to the bathroom, but he hadn't thought to do so, the drugs robbing him of reason and the ability to plan ahead properly.

"What? Oh, right! Sorry."

"Thank you," Don said as Lawson refilled the glass after he'd finished the first one, though some had spilt onto his lap as Lawson had tilted the glass forwards a bit too quickly.

"Ho... How are you?"

"As well as can be expected," Don replied simply, not liking how nervous the boy still was, constantly glancing at the door. "Can you get in trouble for this? Have they told you not to speak to me or help me?"

"No."

"But you fear it anyway."

"Yeah."

"Thanks," Don said as he finished the second glass. "That's good for now."

Much as he wanted to ask for more, Don knew that he really shouldn't. Too much water too quickly would make him ill and that would only get Lawson into trouble if Keane figured out what had happened. The smell of the mac and cheese made his stomach growl and he watched Lawson's eyes flickered between him, the plate and the door, obviously trying to decide if offering him some food was worth the risk. He kept quiet on the matter, not wanting to push the boy too far too soon. That could set him back further than going hungry until Keane or one of the others thought to feed him again.

Lawson seemed to reach a decision and walked back to the desk to return the glass and water and to retrieve the plate.

"Thank you," Don said as he took the food offered him.

The fact that he was reliant on Lawson to feed him like an infant grated, but he'd take what he could at the moment. "They've got someone, haven't they?"

"What?" Lawson asked, his eyes going wide with fright.

"Keane and the others. They've taken someone close to you, like they took me to force Charlie to do what they want."

"N- no."

"Then they're threatening someone close to you."

Lawson swallowed hard, glancing at the door again as if expecting Keane, Banner or Frazer to suddenly come bursting into the room. He just silently continued feeding Don until the agent shook his head, indicating that he'd had enough. Again, he'd like more but didn't want to risk making himself sick. Besides, if he ate too much, then Lawson would need to go back upstairs for more and that would raise suspicions if it was noticed.

"My sister."

The words came out hardly louder than a whisper and Don nearly missed them. Lawson had walked back to the desk, clearly not wanting to be caught near him.

"I'm sorry."

"They- they said they'd kill her." Lawson was visibly trembling now, Don could see it even from where he sat. "She's handicapped, wheelchair."

Don closed his eyes and silently cursed Blakely and Keane. The two had chosen their puppets and pawns well, he had to give them that. Even their decision to abduct him seemed to have paid off so far given all of the precautions they'd taken to ensure that he couldn't escape.

"Greg, have you tried contacting anyone for help?"

"No!" Lawson turned to look at him, horrified. "No, no, no- Nathalie, they'd... he said that they would-"

"Shh, shh, it's okay, I'm sorry," Don hurried to reassure him.

Okay, no mention of what his ultimate fate was likely to be. Besides, the boy clearly loved his sister and probably wouldn't dare try anything as long as they were threatening her, even if he was likely to be hurt as a result. Best not to risk sending him into shock or some sort of trance that mathematicians and other geniuses seemed so much more prone to than other people. _That_ would be difficult to explain to Keane to say the least.

"Can't."

"That's okay, I'm sorry."

The petulant tone proved just how close to losing it the boy was. Don suppressed a sigh as he realized that, while he now had one less opponent to deal with, Lawson's situation actually made things worse as he now had someone else to worry about rescuing. Well, if he managed to free himself first that is. He tried to shove the doubt aside, but knew he had to be realistic. The fact that Lawson needed rescuing and would, most likely, be uncooperative given the threat to his sister, made things a hell of a lot worse than they already were.

The sudden opening of the basement door made Don tense, fearing Frazer was returning to make good on his promise from last night. He relaxed somewhat as Keane stepped into the room. The irony struck him, but the truth of the matter was that while Keane planned to execute him, he hadn't done anything to hurt him beyond what was necessary to incapacitate him in the initial attack. Despite that, he knew better than to let his guard down as this was still the man who was allowing Frazer to torture him for some unknown reason.

"Good afternoon, Agent Eppes," Keane said pleasantly, coming to a stop before his captive. "Awake again, I see."

"What do you want, Keane?" Don asked, hoping to steer him away from any thoughts of administering another dose of the drug.

"I've just come to see how the two of you are doing down here. Any progress, Lawson?"

"I'm where I thought I would be," Lawson replied, voice unsteady.

"And Dr. Eppes?"

"Still working on the problem."

Lawson hit a series of keys and all of the monitors were once again filled with a view of Charlie's office and Charlie himself as he scribbled something into a notebook. It took Don a moment to figure out that he was copying down what he'd written on the board so that he'd be able to erase it and continue on working. It was nice to be able to see his brother again, but at the same time it was jarring, almost a violent reminder of where he was and why.

From the clock on Lawson's desk, Don knew that it was Monday afternoon, making it nearly three full days since he'd been attacked and abducted. During that time he had only gotten three glimpses of what was going on outside this basement and he realized that it was starting to affect his judgment. In essence his whole world had narrowed to this one room and the four people who entered it on occasion. How much longer before his whole perception of reality was totally warped? The clock was the sole reason he was even aware of what time or day it was, without it and with the drugs they'd been using on him, he'd have been totally unable to mark the passage of time.

When he was alone again, or alone but for Lawson, Don knew he'd have to go over what he'd learned in Quantico about resisting torture and the psychological consequences thereof. It was so easy to fall into certain types of counterproductive thought patterns and beliefs and he didn't want that to happen to him. Even victims who were determined to fight could be their own worst enemy if they weren't careful.

Victims.

Don fought the desire to swallow as he finally acknowledged the word and the truth of his situation. Keane's attention had returned to him, no doubt to observe his reaction to seeing his brother, and he didn't want him finding any additional weaknesses. They knew more than enough of them already as far as he was concerned. He still couldn't quite believe how stupid he'd been last night, giving Frazer exactly what he wanted. In fact, he couldn't have done more to please the fugitive if he'd tried.

Victim.

Despite his attempts to distract himself, Don had come right back around to that word. He hated to think of himself as such, but acknowledging the reality of his situation was the first step towards breaking any illusions he might have unconsciously erected. The trick was not to let the truth drag him under in confronting it. Yes, he was a victim here; yes, he was likely to be tortured again before he could either be rescued or escape; yes, his present circumstances were desperate. None of that meant he'd give up, it simply wasn't in him to do so, not so long as he was alive.

So, yes, he'd been made a victim, but that didn't make him helpless. And if they thought it did, then he'd just have to prove them wrong. Somehow.

"Still determined to be strong and put up a fight, aren't you?" Keane laughed. "And then you wonder why I feel the need to drug you most of the time."

There was really nothing to say to that, so Don kept silent, hoping Keane's next action wouldn't be to get the syringe and needle out once more.

"Why not show me how you really feel? It's not like I don't already know you care for your brother or can use it against you," Keane continued. "You're the one being used as leverage here, remember?"

"I'm also the one you fear enough to dispose of when this is done," Don shot back.

"True. Does that surprise you, Agent Eppes? That I would admit that to you?"

"A good soldier knows when to fear an opponent for his skills and abilities. Those that don't, do not live very long nor do they make special forces."

"Also true."

"Besides, you're trying to capitalize on Frazer's brutality to make yourself out to look like the good guy, or at least the lesser of two evils, in this particular scenario. Make me start to look to you as a potential protector and start to let my guard down when you're around."

"I told Blakely that wouldn't work on you."

"But, what? He told you to try anyway?"

"It wasn't going to cost us anything and the potential gains weren't insignificant, so yes," Keane admitted readily. "Blakely is a firm believer in not leaving a single stone unturned."

"Or in not covering every eventuality."

"Indeed."

There was a short silence during which Keane observed him, clearly measuring something, though Don wasn't sure what. This one was dangerous and he'd need to be careful with him if he managed to get free. No, not if, when; when he got free. The only reason why he wouldn't escape was if David managed to rescue him first.

"Do you think he'd do it?" Keane suddenly asked.

"Who? What?"

"Your second-in-command, or whatever you call them at the Bureau. Do you think he'd go as far for you as you would for him?"

"Back to this again, are we?" Don replied evasively, not sure if he really wanted to think about that.

He knew David played things far more by the book than he did and Don was proud of that. He didn't want any of his team doing some of what he'd done, especially not for him. Hence the reason he'd made sure to have a word with Colby about the way he'd treated Kardum. The problem was, this situation wasn't just about him, it was about Charlie as well and how he'd feel if things ended badly. He didn't think his little brother would be able to handle that, he knew he wouldn't be able to take it if Charlie was killed because of his work. Then, of course, there was also their father to think of as well. So, while he'd normally not want David to bend the rules a little for him, now he did and that scared him.

"Oh, yes, I find it a fascinating topic," Keane stated. "How you're able to justify some things to yourself and not others. You'd be an even more formidable foe if you'd only just unshackle yourself from the restraints of the law."

"Not exactly the type of thing a LEO does," Don said, not fully able to believe what he was hearing.

Did Keane really expect him to behave like that? Or was this really some bizarre fascination for him as he claimed? It would almost have to be because, in light of his planned execution, there wasn't much point in Keane pursuing the topic. It wasn't like he was attempting to recruit him. Or was it perhaps just a mind game to keep him off-balance, and harmless, like the drugs?

"What I do now isn't exactly the type of thing a soldier does. People change, especially if given the right incentive."

Don tilted his head as he considered Keane carefully through narrowed eyes, trying to assess the man's true intentions.

He was inclined to think this was all a mind game of some sort, either to keep him off-balance or simply for Keane's amusement, yet there seemed to be something else there as well. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, though he suspected it might have something to do with the looks the man had been giving him from the beginning. Not to mention all that the man had said, even as far back as CalSci Friday evening.

_"He's got spirit, I admire that."_

_"You're a dangerous one."_

_"I think I might well have enjoyed knowing you."_

Could Keane really have been serious with each of those remarks? Could the man really regard him highly, maybe even admire him, and still allow Frazer to torture him like he had? It almost seemed like some bizarre, inverted form of the Stockholm Syndrome, which he wasn't even sure was possible. He'd definitely never heard of it before, yet if it could happen, and was happening, perhaps he could use it to his advantage.

"The right incentive," Don repeated slowly, hoping Keane would elaborate and reveal some of what he was up to here.

"Mmm," Keane agreed, seemingly pleased at not being shutdown outright. "What that incentive is differs from person to person, naturally, but Blakely is a master at knowing what people want. He rarely fails to entice the people he's chosen to work for him."

"Like you."

"Yes."

"He recruit you right from the military?"

Keane's eyes suddenly narrowed and he gave a short bark of laughter. "You're trying to draw more information from me. Very well played, Agent Eppes, very well played."

**

* * *

**

**Tuesday, 11:44  
Basement, Unknown Location**

"Thank you," Don said as he finished the last bite of the sandwich Greg had shared with him.

"Do you want some more water?"

"Yes, please."

The drug was really drying his mouth out and what little water Keane gave him did nothing to alleviate it. As Greg lifted the glass to his mouth, Don reflected that at least one good thing came out of his needing Greg's help like this; the boy was no longer as nervous and afraid around him. It would help if he managed to try an escape attempt. No, not if, when. He had to think positively or he might as well give up now and that was one thing he simply didn't do. No, either he would escape or David would rescue him. He did have to wonder though about what was taking them so long. It had been nearly four days since he'd been taken, nearly two since Charlie had been told, so surely he'd have told David that same day.

A chill went through Don as a new thought occurred to him. What if Charlie hadn't informed David of what was going on? What if his team was working on this blind? Surely Charlie wouldn't have done that, would he? He of all people had to know how much better the odds were if the Bureau was involved. But then, living in the reality of something was often far different from knowing about it and, now that he thought of it, he knew Keane would have instructed Banner to tell Charlie not to alert anyone to what was going on. They'd probably threatened his life. There really was no escape for his little brother in this scenario. Regardless of what Charlie did, he wouldn't like the outcome. Well, if he was alive to regret it...

"Greg, do you know what they have planned for my brother?" Don asked, unable to squash the doubt he suddenly felt. "When he's done what they want him to do?"

"Keane told Banner that he's to be left alone," Greg replied, refilling the glass and taking a sip himself as he sat down at the desk.

"You heard him say that?"

"Yes."

The relief that one word could cause was really quite amazing. Don hadn't wanted to dwell on the alternative too much, but it worried him nonetheless. Although Keane didn't have the same incentive to kill Charlie as he did with him, his brother still knew something of what was going on. That and he'd seen Banner, knew who and what he was, so there would be a certain logic in taking him out as well, tactically anyway. The sound of the door opening caused his head to jerk towards it and he watched with dread as Frazer stepped into the room. The urge to laugh rose within him as he realized that he really shouldn't be worrying about Charlie at present, not when his brother was safely tucked away at CalSci and he was helplessly trussed up in a basement with a psychopath who wanted him dead.

**

* * *

**

**As some of you may probably have realized, I made a slight reference to my drabble _Learning Curve_ (20th one in the _3695_ series) in this chapter. You don't need to have read it in order to understand the reference, but it shows the actual scene where Don spoke with Colby about how he behaved with Kardum.  
For those of you who are interested, there is some speculation that a reverse Stockholm Syndrome exists and it's called the Lima Syndrome. There is, however, some doubt as to whether it, and the Stockholm Syndrome, are real syndromes or not.  
The last scene in this chapter was really intended to go at the start of chapter 18 originally, but that chapter grew out of all control and I had to put some of it here and some of it into chapter 19 in order to make it more manageable. As it is, chapter 18 will still be far longer than any other chapter to date. It is the chapter with the most Don!whump in this fic and in which Don receives the damage seen in the final photo Charlie got. I hope to have it up soon, between the posting of the 3 August deadline fics I signed up for (not sure why I always do that, but I can't seem to help myself!).**


	18. Part V: Chapter 18

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Note_: This is the chapter that will have the most Don!whump in it. Enjoy!

**

* * *

**

_**Part V: Don:** Basement_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 17:**_

**Tuesday, 11:57  
Basement, Unknown Location**

"Ah, you're awake again," Frazer observed, a manic smile already spreading across his face. "Excellent, that means we can start playing right away instead of wasting time."

As Frazer approached, Don tried to look towards Lawson without appearing to do so. He wished that the boy could be stationed elsewhere in the building so that he didn't have to witness this, even if it meant he'd not get any of the food and water Greg had been sharing with him. The boy was already under enough pressure as it was with the threat to his sister, he didn't need to see firsthand what someone like Frazer was capable of.

"Frazer," Don stated, forcing himself to remain calm.

It was difficult with his heart already going a mile a minute at the mere thought of the fugitive's knife. Why the hell had he flinched? Why had he given Frazer exactly what he'd wanted? With everything that had already happened over the past few days and all that he knew about Frazer, Don knew it was going to be very bad now that the fugitive knew what his weakness was. Involuntarily, his mind flashed back to some of the bloodier crime scenes he'd seen, all of them with victims carved up by knives. Was that his future? If he didn't get out and if David didn't find him in time, would Frazer use the knife to kill him? Would his team arrive only to find his body like those of the victims he could still remember only all too well? Horror and terror sliced through him and it was all he could do not to start hyperventilating or shaking at the adrenaline dump Frazer's mere presence now brought on.

Perhaps if he played his cards right and hid his reactions, he could convince Frazer that knives didn't bother him any more than guns or any other weapon did. It was a slim chance, but one Don was determined to test, simply because he could think of no other alternatives. Frazer was going to draw his knife and sooner rather than later, there was nothing he could do about that, but hopefully he could convince him to abandon it as quickly as he had the cigarette and gun. He wasn't sure what the man would turn to next, but he didn't really care as long as it wasn't the knife.

"Don't you have things to take care of?" Don asked, forcing his mind to focus on something other than the knife and the phantom pain.

"Yeah," Frazer stated. "But don't you worry, the arrangements are almost completed and then I'll have all the time in the world to spend with you."

"Arrangements?" Don questioned, figuring it couldn't hurt to try, not given that Frazer already intended to torture him anyway. He might as well get something out of it.

"Hmm, to ensure we get out of here safely."

That didn't make any sense. Don was sure Keane and Blakely could have taken care of this already and, more to the point, would not have wanted to leave something so vitally important to someone like Frazer. So why were they making Frazer set up a completely different set of escape plans? Why waste the time and risk the exposure? Fugitive Recovery would have agents looking for him as well as sending out his photo to local authorities across the country. Yes, it kept Frazer occupied elsewhere, away from him until they were ready to actually let Frazer kill him, but surely that wasn't worth the vastly increased chances of Frazer being recognized by someone? The more often Frazer left the building, the more likely he was to draw federal attention towards them.

"I've also taken the liberty of starting to find out where that old partner of yours currently is," Frazer continued, chilling Don. "Gonna pay him a visit when I'm done here, figure I can start off my retirement in style."

"He didn't have anything to do with what happened," Don stated, trying desperately to think of something that would make the fugitive abandon his new vendetta.

Before it had always been about him, not Coop. Even though it had taken the two of them to wrestle him to the ground and cuff him, Don had always been the focus of Frazer's hate and rage. The man had dismissed Coop entirely, much to his partner's bemusement. Why was that changing now? Could he divert that drive back to himself? If he was to die here, in this basement, by Frazer's hands, then the least he could do was ensure that he was the only one to do so. Coop would be entirely caught off-guard if Frazer were to go after him, he'd have absolutely no warning, just like he'd had none.

The thought brought Don up short as he considered it again in light of what he now knew. Given that Keane and Blakely had access to his records and had themselves an unwilling but pliable computer expert, it would be a small matter to remove an alert from a prisoner's records. After all, they'd hardly have wanted him to be on his guard after all of the trouble they'd gone to in order to get Frazer out of prison in the first place.

Did that mean his team was unaware of Frazer's escape and the importance of it, or would the tampering have been uncovered by now? He certainly hoped so, because if Charlie really hadn't informed his team of what was going on, then this at least would put them on the right track. If not, then they might never come up with the right answer on their own. It wasn't that he had so little faith in his team, but rather that they'd be coming at the investigation from completely the wrong angle. They'd be looking for someone who had it in for him when, really, this whole thing was about Charlie, he was just a means to an end; a pawn. In fact, were it not for his reputation, he wouldn't even be here. All of which meant that, but for Frazer who'd been brought in especially for his history with him, none of the others were connected to him at all.

"Yeah, he did," Frazer countered, considering him. "I'm still trying to decide exactly what I'll take him as a souvenir, any suggestions?"

"Go to hell," Don shot back, horror slicing through him.

"You first."

Don was only just able to contain his instinctive flinch as the knife suddenly appeared in Frazer's hand, the wicked blade jumping into view with a snick. It took him a few seconds, but he managed to tear his eyes from the weapon to look at the man wielding it instead. The fugitive was watching him closely and Don knew with a sinking heart that his desperate plan wasn't going to work. Already he had obviously given too much away if the manic joy was anything to go back.

"You still insist on trying to be strong," Frazer observed. "You might as well give up now, Eppes, 'cause I'm gonna shatter that mask of yours."

"Give it your best shot," Don retorted automatically, wondering not for the first time what was wrong with him.

The flare of anger in Frazer's eyes and the twisting of his lips into a snarl might be a small victory, but it was one that was sure to cost him dearly. He knew his father despaired of his inability to back down at times and he did too, but the long and short of it was that he simply didn't know how else to handle a situation like this. He'd never been able to remain quiet and cower; showing submission simply wasn't in him. Not even on normal level, a fact which had led to him often clashing with his superiors as a rookie agent. He could still clearly recall the exasperation he'd seen in even Coop's eyes at times during the first few months of their partnership, before they'd found their true rhythm. As the senior and experienced partner, it had been up to Coop to rein him in, a running battle the whole way.

The thought brought a small smile to his face despite the dire situation. Luckily for him, Coop had taken it as a challenge, to help shape him into a formidable agent in his own right instead of giving into some macho need to strike him down and dominate him. Not that they hadn't clashed as two alphas were bound to do, but those instances were few and far in between, Coop preferring instead to tackle the challenge of training another alpha without giving up his own authority.

All thoughts of his former partner left Don as the blade sliced through the air towards him much as it had Friday evening at CalSci. Now that he was aware of the flashbacks, he could tell that the pain of cold steel sliding into his body wasn't real, or at least not current, but it was there nonetheless, slicing through flesh and sending waves of agony lancing through his chest. Compared to that, the real pain along his collarbone hardly registered apart from the feel of blood running from the wound down his chest.

Frazer gave a whoop of laughter and threw his head back before he calmed and studied Don's face. "You _really_ don't like knives much, do you?" he stated, eyes following the rivulets of blood.

"And you're nothing but a coward who can't even face me on equal footing," Don shot back, trying to shove aside the memories and the terror clawing at his throat and threatening to drag him under. "Untie me and we'll see who comes out on top."

With a roar of rage, Frazer struck out with the hilt of the knife, striking the side of Don's ribs, right on the deep bruise Keane's kick had left. Don grunted but managed to swallow the scream that threatened to erupt as the sound of bone breaking filled the basement. He wasn't sure if the ribs were broken or merely cracked, but fire exploded within him and knocked the breath from his lungs.

"Do you want me to kill you now?" Frazer demanded, furious. "Is that what you're trying to achieve? Well, it's not gonna work. I've got plans for you, special plans and as soon as your baby brother gives us exactly what we want, I'm carrying them out."

Though he wanted to throw out a smart retort, Don kept his mouth shut as he tried to catch his breath. He didn't want to provoke another hit like that as he feared it would just send his ribs into his lung, and a punctured lung was something he could live without ever experiencing again. Just the memory of it filling with his own blood and the resulting struggle for breath was enough to make him break out in a light sweat.

"It's a pity I can't start now, but there are plenty of other things I can do," Frazer continued. "George always did say I should slow down and savor things more. I'm beginning to think he was right, so let's start savoring, shall we? Now, where to begin?"

There was nothing Don could think of to do or say as Frazer considered his options. Not that he had many choices in the doing department, trussed up as he was. As for saying something, well, reason seemed to be wasted on the man and anything else he could think of to say would only enrage him further, which wasn't really in his best interests at the moment. Before he could think about the matter any further, Frazer seemed to make up his mind as he stepped closer and reached out with his free hand to firmly grab the back of Don's neck.

"I know, how about we start with the usual stuff first? Then we can see about getting a little more creative," Frazer said, holding his captive still as he brought the knife up to his jaw.

Don froze as the blade started trailing down his neck and around to his throat, skimming his Adam's apple. Given that the tip of the knife was already cutting into his skin, he didn't even dare to breathe for fear of it cutting deeper into him. Briefly he wondered if seeing him freeze in place wasn't almost as much of a kick for Frazer as any fear the man might detect in his eyes or the sounds of pain he was unable to prevent from escaping, but he attempted to ignore the thought. Even if he knew it were true for a fact, there was nothing he could do about it. Moving when there was a sharp blade at his pulse point was simply not a good idea.

The terror caused by the thought that he'd feel the knife slide home in his throat at any moment slowed Don's mind and it took him a few moments to realize that the pattern Frazer was now tracing along his neck wasn't random. The fugitive was tracing the path of his carotid arteries first on one side and then the other. The feeling of his blood rapidly draining out of a wound he was too weak to cover up enveloped him and a strangled sound escape him when Frazer applied a bit more pressure and dug a little deeper with the tip of the knife.

Apparently that had been exactly what the fugitive was looking for as he pulled back slightly, a triumphant smile on his face. "I was right, you do look pretty covered in blood. Now, what should I cut next? Hmm."

A few choice suggestions instantly came to mind, but Don bit them back as he concentrated on the rate of blood flow from his neck. He didn't think Frazer had cut deep enough to actually hit the artery at the end there, but he wasn't a hundred percent sure. Given the lack of attention the man was paying to the area, he knew he was probably okay, or as okay as he could possibly be in this situation. The phantom sensation of bleeding to death lingered and made Don lose track of where his torturer's attention had drifted.

"What's this?" Frazer suddenly questioned, eyes on the agent's chest.

Don felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach as he feared he knew exactly what had captured the fugitive's attention. His suspicions were confirmed when Frazer reached out and ran a finger over his newest scar. He shuddered, unable to prevent the reaction, the area still quite sensitive but also in revulsion of Frazer's touch itself.

"This looks relatively new," Frazer observed, his smile twisting cruelly, flicking the switch on the knife and the blade disappeared as he brought it up to the scar. "That's about right."

The feel of the hilt of Frazer's knife pressed up against his chest just like Radovic's had been once the blade had been fully sunk into his body catapulted Don straight back to that night. Suddenly it was Radovic's scarred face he was looking into and not Frazer's, the terrible pain of being stabbed slicing through him and he heard the same small sound escape him from before. Funny that, Don thought vaguely, he'd have expected that, given the pain and the sheer unexpectedness of the attack, he'd have screamed but instead all that had gotten out was a small gasp-like strangle before he'd collapsed.

"Ha! So _that's_ why you don't like knives," the voice drifted into the haze of pain and terror shrouding Don's mind.

No, that wasn't right, Radovic hadn't spoken. The man hadn't spoken at all, simply snuck up on them, knocked Nikki out and stabbed him, all without a word, just staring coldly into his eyes before dropping him to the ground and walking away. The man had acted like it was nothing at all and to him it probably wasn't. He and Nikki had stood between him and his freedom, so he'd taken care of them before slipping away like some damned ghost. At no point had he said a single word at all, Don would have remembered it if he had, God knew he remembered the man's face well enough. It was burned into his memory forever, surfacing often at night when he was alone.

So who was speaking? The voice was vaguely familiar, but not enough so to belong to a member of his team. Besides, it lacked the urgency David and Colby's voices had been filled with when they'd finally found Nikki and himself. So who was it? There had been no one else present, well no one who'd been conscious anyway.

"Got stabbed, did you? Wish I'd been able to see that, bet you bled out so prettily."

Blood. Knife. Pretty.

Frazer.

Reality crashed down around Don all of a sudden and he wasn't sure what was worse, the flashback or the present he now found himself in. A quick glance down proved that Frazer still held the hilt of his knife pressed right up against the scar on his chest, his finger on the switch that would bring forth the blade. His heart continued to race as he considered this. Would Frazer really do it? Would he really ignore all that Keane had told him and risk his million dollar payday for the pleasure of killing him now?

Reluctantly, Don looked up at Frazer's face once more, not sure if he'd be able to separate fact from fiction as he did so. If Frazer did lose it and actually stabbed him, he might well take the pain for yet another flashback given how many of them he'd already had. It was with a shock that he realized he couldn't entirely trust his own senses at the moment.

If he couldn't trust his senses and what they told him about his situation, then what could he rely on?

"Oh, well, I'll just have to recreate it for myself," Frazer stated with glee.

"Can't," Don retorted quickly, too quickly, but the damn memory of the last time refused to be pushed aside and he could already feel one knife tearing into him, he wasn't sure he could take another. "Keane."

"Keane only needs you alive for a little while longer, then I can do whatever I want with you, Eppes. Don't worry, I won't rush it," Frazer laughed. "I'll take my time, but when it comes, I'll see just how well you bleed."

There it was, a simple verification that his earlier fears were correct. Don now knew for certain that if he didn't get out of here by the time Charlie did what Keane needed him to, he was going to be killed with the knife. For the first time ever, he slightly wished that his little brother would be stumped by the math, or that it would take him a long time at the very least. If Charlie breezed through it, well, he was a dead man. Simple as that.

"So that's your brilliant plan? To copy what someone else has already done? How pathetic," the words were out before Don had fully considered them, but then he figured he'd have said them anyway, so it didn't really matter one way or the other.

"When it's something you obviously fear so much, yeah, I'll copy someone else," Frazer hissed, restrained anger in every line of his body. "But only the basic idea. This cut," he jerked the hilt against Don's scar and the anger drained from him at the distinct hitch in the agent's breathing, "looks like it would cause too much damage, probably hit a lung didn't it? That's too quick for me, I'll start somewhere less vital, after all, just like there are plenty of places to put a bullet that don't require immediate medical attention, so there are lots of places to stick a knife."

The blind panic was back, hovering at the edge of his mind, as the exact meaning of Frazer's words sunk in. Don had feared getting stabbed again, but that wasn't what the fugitive was talking about. He was suggesting multiple jabs all over his body before finally driving the knife home somewhere lethal. Or would Frazer simply stick to the non-vital areas until he'd done it enough times for the shock and blood loss to kill him?

He was breathing heavily now, quick, short, painful breaths which caused his abused ribs to scream at him in protest but he couldn't stop. The fear and adrenaline overruling his normal control, his eyes locked on the hilt of the knife where it still rested against his chest and the scar from before. It hadn't yet penetrated him, but Frazer's finger was still on the switch, stroking it like a lover. He forced his eyes closed and tried to center himself, knowing he couldn't afford to lose it entirely.

"Oh, I know," Frazer suddenly stated, the victory in his tone making Don look up at him. "Perhaps I'll take that old partner of yours an eye. What do you think? Would he be happy to see you again, you think?"

Nausea welled up in him again and Don tasted vomit in his throat before he froze, the blind panic swamping him completely as Frazer grabbed his chin in a vice-like grip and he felt the tip of the knife cut into the skin next to his right ear. Slowly, inexorably, it cut through the skin towards his good eye. The terror made Don try and rip his head free so he could pull away, but only succeeded in moving his head slightly, causing the knife to cut downwards slightly.

"You trying to eviscerate yourself right now? That what you're trying to do?"

The words skittered across Don's hearing but didn't really register as the knife cut upwards again and approached the very edge of his eye. There it stopped, but the tip wasn't removed from the cut, simply held in place as if it might continue its path at any moment. Unable to help himself, Don turned his eye as far right as it could go, seeing the blade and exactly how close it was.

"What? No more smart remarks, Eppes? No?" Frazer demanded in delight, leaning close. "Finally found a way to shut you up, have I? Excellent."

Don's throat worked convulsively as reason slowly started to return a little and he forced himself to remember what Keane had told Frazer. No permanent damage until Charlie had solved the problem for them, in case his little brother demanded further photographic proof that he was still alive. Despite that, the panic refused to be quelled until the knife was finally removed. It seemed to take an eternity, but when it happened, Don collapsed into the chair, not realized exactly how tense he'd been until just then.

Vaguely, Don was aware of a crashing sound over the roar of his heartbeat in his ears. It hardly registered and probably would have gone completely unnoticed except for the cry of fear that followed it. The quality of the sound reminded him enough of Charlie as a kid that it snapped him back into the present and he forced his head up enough to see Frazer stalking towards the desk where Lawson stood frozen over the tray he'd brought his food and drink down on earlier. Only now, instead of laying on the desk, it lay upside-down on the floor, water and broken shards of glass and porcelain shattered all around him.

Before Don could even fully process what had happened, Lawson seemed to come to his sense and darted for the door, vanishing upstairs. What had Frazer been thinking, turning his attention to Lawson? Surely he had to know the boy was off limits to him, they'd need him to get the data, of that Don was certain. Plus it didn't look like Lawson was done with whatever he was working on.

When Frazer took no note of Lawson's panicked flight, Don suddenly realized with horror that the fugitive's intention had never been to hurt the boy. Rather, the distraction had served to remind Frazer of what one of the two cabinets flanking the desk contained.

The amber drug.

The realization sent a strange mixture of horror and relief surging through Don. Horror at the thought of all the pain Frazer could inflict upon him between the knife and the drug, his mind already more than able to conjure up the excruciating possibilities. Yet there was also relief. It sprung from the fact that by going for the drug, Frazer unintentionally signaled that he wasn't going to start disobeying Keane just yet. He was still following orders and meant to use the drug to be able to elicit the sort of responses he wanted to see despite the limitations placed upon him.

Then, just before Don was able to wrest his mind away from that line of thought, a new possibility occurred to him. What if Frazer also planned to use the amber drug on him when he was finally allowed to drive the knife home to the hilt inside of him?

**

* * *

**

**There you go, the chapter that explains how Don got the injuries you saw earlier in the fourth photo that Charlie was given by Frazer way back in chapter 11. I hope you like it and it wasn't too much, I was beginning to wonder if it would be while writing it.  
As promised, this chapter is also the longest to date at 8 pages and over 4,200 words. At the moment it is the longest chapter even including the ones not yet posted, but that may still change as I finish the fic.  
Yes, I know Frazer's comment about taking the eye and having Coop see Don was bad, but I think it's something that would tickle his twisted mind.  
For those of you who like to look ahead, there is something in this chapter, a detail, that will be critical later on for Don.**


	19. Part V: Chapter 19

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Note_: This is yet another one of those places where this fic ran out of control on me. What is now chapters 19 & 20 was originally supposed to be one chapter! Instead, when I checked the word count, it had grown into two.  
Oops.

**

* * *

**

_**Part V: Don: **Basement_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 19:**_

**Tuesday, 13:35  
Basement, Unknown Location**

As he drifted in a haze of agony, Don wondered vaguely how George Frazer had been able to put up with his brother's barbaric nature. The two seemed so completely different, one highly educated and able to charm most electronics, nearly breaking into the Pentagon itself, while the other was a certifiable sociopath who-

Don's thought cut off instantly as realization hit him. The Pentagon. George Frazer had almost successfully stolen information from the Pentagon, only getting caught through the sheer dumb luck of a technician. The thing was, neither brother had said one word to the authorities, leaving them unable to pin either the hacking or the shooting of the cop on either of them individually and so they'd both gone down for everything. Therefore Darien Frazer's file listed him as having committed high-end computer crimes. The Pentagon. How much different was the Pentagon security from that of the NSA? If someone had successfully hacked one, would it be a large stretch to say that they'd know how to go about hacking the other? No, probably not.

With his mind still muddled by both pain and drugs, Don could all but see the light bulb that went on above his head. _That_ was why Keane and Blakely had brought Frazer onboard despite how poorly suited he seemed to be for the job. He was a fall guy, a scapegoat. It took a few more moments, but he finally realized that Banner was one too. At no point had Keane's presence on the crew been revealed to an outsider who was supposed to survive the encounter. Banner was the one who kept going to see Charlie and who'd helped Lawson smuggle the necessary information out of the NSA. He'd probably also be the one to help Lawson use whatever Charlie devised to steal the information Keane and Blakely were after.

Therefore Banner and Lawson's involvement in the whole affair would be blatantly obvious when all was said and done. By adding Frazer to the crew, they were adding someone who'd believably want to kill him, not to mention be able to kill Lawson as well, and who had a history of exactly this type of crime. Even though the theft of the information would come out, either when the hack was discovered or when Charlie finally realized something had gone horribly wrong with the deal he'd made with Banner, an investigation into it could well miss the true masterminds behind it all.

Don felt a chill race down his spine and found the haze around his mind clearing as he understood the full implications of what he'd just figured out. Not only were he and Lawson going to end up dead, but Banner and Frazer were too, once they'd outlived their usefulness. Oh, he was sure one of them would probably seem to have a convenient accident of some sort, something to make the investigators think that luck had been on their side, but dead nonetheless. While he couldn't care less about what happened to either man after what they had done, the opportunity it presented couldn't be ignored.

In fact, it just might be his ticket out of here if he played his cards right.

**

* * *

**

**Tuesday, 18:02  
Basement, Unknown Location**

The sound of the door opening drew Don from the light doze he'd fallen into, just in time to hear cursing. He lifted his head to see Banner standing by the open door, staring at him in horror. When it became apparent that the NSA agent was alone, Don let his head drop sideways to rest on his shoulder, trying to ignore the tray Banner carried by closing his eyes. He would not beg for the food and water on it, no matter how much his body needed them. Frazer might have thought he'd broken him, but he hadn't.

It was another minute or two before Don finally heard movement and he opened his eyes once more as Banner neared him. The look in the man's eyes was one he recognized well from those crime scenes that made even experienced LEOs wonder how one person could do something like that to another. Funny, he'd earlier pegged Lawson as the one who'd gotten in over his head, thinking he knew what he'd signed on for until confronted with a living, breathing person able to both feel and vocalize pain as well as bleed as the thing to be brutalized and killed, not Banner. Or hadn't he known that Blakely and Keane intended to allow Frazer quite such free rein? That was entirely possible given what he'd realized. As far as Banner was probably concerned, there was no reason for Don's execution to be anything other than swift and merciful; a quick bullet to the head or heart, killing him instantly.

"Not what you signed on for?" Don taunted, voice hoarse.

"I... Jesus," Banner replied, coming to a stop before him and getting a really good look at the injuries.

Don could merely guess at what he looked like, only able to see what had been done to his arms and torso. Given the way Banner's eyes seemed glued to his face, though, following patterns he knew were burned into his memory forevermore, he could safely assume that it looked worse than the rest of him. He supposed his face was probably a mask of dried blood.

With a shake of his head, Banner looked away, clearly trying to shift gears. Working for the NSA, the man probably didn't see as many crime scenes as other federal agents did and thus wouldn't be accustomed to seeing something like this, well, as accustomed as one could get to such things. Whatever Banner tried to tell himself seemed to work as he was able to step forwards further and set the tray on Don's lap. Instead of toast it was just plain bread today, two slices of it with some water.

"What? No oatmeal anymore?" Don demanded acidly even as his stomach growled loudly. "Or does Keane no longer feel it necessary to drug me into submission?"

The uncomfortable look in Banner's eyes told Don all he needed to know. Great, so now he was considered so little of a threat that Keane finally felt it safe to simply leave him tied up. While it would make things easier and allow him to have a clear head, Don couldn't help but feel somewhat insulted. He'd just have to prove to Keane exactly how dangerous he could be, preferably as he was escaping and ensuring Keane went to prison for the rest of his miserable life.

All rational thought abruptly fled Don's mind as Banner pulled out a pocketknife.

Oh God, not again.

Impossibly, Don felt yet more adrenaline swamp his system. Hadn't he used up all of it already with Frazer? It surged through his blood, tensing abused muscles, taxing them to the limit even as it hit his stomach with the force of a physical blow, forcing him to fight to keep down what little Lawson had managed to smuggle him earlier in the day. He flinched back as far as he could, the knowledge that his secret was long since out preventing any sort of moderation of the reaction.

"No! God, Jesus, no!" Banner exclaimed, eyes wide as he backpedaled several steps. "God, I'd never-"

The words washed over Don, barely registering as he fought off the mindless terror that threatened to overwhelm him and drag him under. He couldn't afford that right now. His eyes remained glued on the still closed pocketknife, determined not to loose track of it this time. It wasn't until the knife was hastily thrust back into the pocket from which it had emerged that he was able to quell some of the panic and collect himself enough to turn his attention to Banner and what he was saying.

The man's eyes were shocked, clearly caught off-guard that Don would expect the same behavior from him as from Frazer. Don thought briefly, viciously, about pointing out all of the reasons he had to expect the same lack of consideration from him as the fugitive, but then squashed the thought. If he was right about what Keane had planned for Banner and Frazer, then it was in his best interests to not alienate the man as he could be his and Lawson's ticket out of here. He just had to play his cards right.

"I don't do that," Banner declared firmly, once more in control of himself. "I was just going to free your arm so you could eat."

What he said made sense, but Don didn't think it would help if Banner were to draw the knife again. Not so long as he was here, in this basement, tied down and helpless to prevent the NSA agent from doing anything he pleased. Banner must have reached the same conclusion as he stepped closer again without drawing the knife, moving to work the knots with his fingers instead.

"Have you thought about why he allows it? Keane, I mean," Don questioned softly, ensuring that his voice wouldn't carry through the open door and up the stairs.

"What are you talking about?" Banner demanded.

"Frazer and the... torture."

It was difficult to say the word, but it wasn't like either of them was under any illusions about what was going on here. Don had already confronted the fact that he was a victim, and a nearly helpless one at that, he could face the reality of what Frazer was doing to him. It was merely a word after all, a label. He'd already survived the real thing, he wasn't going to let himself be defeated by a mere name, no matter how much his mind wanted to shy away from it.

"No?" Don pressed on when his inquiry was met with silence as Banner struggled with the rope. "Then how about why Keane felt it necessary to bring Frazer in on this operation."

"He has his tasks," Banner replied, eyes flickering upwards briefly to look at him, but avoiding eye contact.

"What? To kill me? Like you or Keane couldn't have done that yourselves, and much quicker and cleaner than Frazer is bound to."

That drew a reaction, a quick tightening of the muscles of Banner's face and hands. It wasn't much, but it was there and Don caught it, having been watching closely. Seeing him like this had clearly shaken the NSA agent deeply and it had lowered his normal defenses significantly. That was good, it was very good. It meant he might be more open to listening to what Don had to say without rejecting it out of hand as Frazer would surely do. Or not, the fugitive was probably more likely to not even listen to him in the first place.

"Or perhaps you mean these escape plans he's taking care of," Don continued relentlessly, seeing another muscle jump. "Oh, yes, Frazer told me about that just before he started- well, playing, I believe his word is."

"What's your point?" Banner demanded harshly as he got the last knot undone and pulled the rope free.

"I'm just asking if you know why Keane and Blakely felt it necessary to recruit Frazer. You, I understand, the same for Lawson. The two of you play pivotal roles that neither of them can fulfill, but Frazer? I mean, do you honestly think that Keane can't make the arrangements to get out of here himself? Do you really trust Frazer to take care of something so vitally important? After you've stolen from _the NSA_?"

Though he didn't say anything, Don caught a flicker in Banner's eyes that told him he was right in suspecting that the NSA agent might well have a problem with Frazer handling the details for their getaway once they'd achieved their goals. He'd probably argued the point with Keane and either lost or been brushed off. Either way, it meant there was already some friction within the group, which made what he was trying to do that much easier.

"Surely, you of all people know what type of response _that's_ likely to provoke," Don continued, layering on the pressure for all he was worth. "Haven't you wondered why someone like Keane would leave something that important to Frazer?"

"And you think you know the answer to that?"

"Sure, Keane's not planning on utilizing whatever Frazer arranges, he just needs it to be in place, so it'll look like an escape plan was thought out and arranged," Don replied before pausing to drink the water, his abused throat screaming its protests at him. "It's a setup so he can get away with stealing the information and leaving you and Frazer holding the blame."

"No," Banner denied instantly, too quickly in a voice that wasn't nearly as firm as it could have been. "You're lying."

"Oh for Heaven's sake, you're a federal agent, an _NSA_ agent, surely you know all about double and triple cross," Don stated, exasperated. "Look at the damn facts! Who has gotten the necessary information out of the NSA? You and Lawson. Who has approached my brother and not only gotten him to work on the problem but revealed the truth of the situation to him? You. Who moved my car and is likely to have left trace evidence of himself behind in it? You. Who saw Keane help Frazer assault and abduct me? You and no one else. Who saw Keane control Frazer and run the operation from here? You, Lawson, Frazer and me. Notice a pattern here? The only people who have seen or know of Keane's involvement are already slated to die before this whole thing ends except for yourself and Frazer. Do you really think the two of you are so special to Keane and Blakely that you'll be spared the same fate as myself and Lawson?

"If you even consider entertaining that thought for even a moment, then think about this. Frazer has a known history with me. We've crossed paths before and he has threatened to kill me, often and vocally, that's a well documented fact. He and his brother also used to commit high-end computer crimes, nearly hacking the Pentagon successfully, which makes him the perfect candidate to picture as being involved in this type of crime. By letting Frazer torture me, Keane is setting things up to look like there was no one else involved in this whole scenario but Frazer, Lawson and yourself. Then, once Lawson and I are disposed of, you or Frazer is next, most likely you, with Frazer having a convenient accident somehow.

"Tidies things up quite nicely, doesn't it? Hence allowing Keane to slip away through the cracks, back to Blakely and the client with the information they were after. Not a hint of their involvement in the whole mess at all, causing the authorities to think they've managed to contain the situation and prevented the leakage of sensitive information."

His throat was now really screaming at him, so Don finished off the glass of water as he waited for Banner's reaction. The fact that the man hadn't interrupted him or cut him off was promising and indicated that he may have had some doubts of his own which Don had voiced for him.

"Eat your food," Banner finally stated tonelessly.

"Didn't you hear a word I just said?"

"Keane will be down shortly to allow you a bathroom break."

Which meant he could either eat the bread now, or risk loosing it if Keane felt he should have consumed it faster. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to maintain what little strength he had left, Don picked up the first slice and took a big bite. He was going to say something else when he noticed that Banner wasn't really paying much attention to him. If only he had his other hand or legs free, he'd be able to take advantage of the situation, but they weren't and he could do nothing. At least it indicated that he'd gotten through to the traitor on some level as he appeared deep in thought, a disturbed expression on his face.

**

* * *

**

**So, here Don has finally figures out the last aspect of Keane and Blakely's plan. What do you think? Donny's about to prove to Keane that he's not nearly as helpless as the man thinks he is. Whether or not that's a good thing, though, remains to be seen.  
As for Banner... well, the man really is in over his head. This isn't what he signed on for, but will he go with it or will he elect to believe Don and do something about it? If so, what?  
So, do you think poor Donny's been broken or not? _He_ doesn't think he has been, but then he clearly lost it when Banner produced a pocketknife. A sheated pocketknife.  
The next chapter will be up on Monday.**


	20. Part V: Chapter 20

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Note_: Here you go, as promised, the next chapter.

**

* * *

**

_**Part V: Don: **Basement_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 20:**_

**Tuesday, 18:16  
Basement, Unknown Location**

Once he'd finished the first slice and started the second, Don decided he'd given the other man enough time.

"This information Blakely and Keane are after, is it something that would be more valuable if the government believed it hadn't gotten out into the open?" Don asked, knowing better than to question the man about what they were stealing.

Despite all else, Banner was still a traitor to the United States government, willing to betray the NSA and his oath for money. Just because his life may now be in jeopardy as a result of his decision to accept Blakely's offer didn't mean he'd feel any more righteous or different towards Don himself. That part of the situation hadn't changed in the slightest, though perhaps his torture had shown the agent that things weren't quite what he'd believed they'd be. No, what had altered and which would matter to him, was that his own life was now at stake. That was the weak link here and Don wouldn't waste time chasing after shadows and trying to induce guilt where there was precious little to begin with.

The lack of a verbal response told Don all he needed to know, even though Banner's facial expression confirmed it. The sound of a door opening distracted him briefly and his eyes darted towards the open door out of the basement. Keane was clearly coming down to join them as Banner had said he would. He only had a minute left to make his point.

"Look, you know Blakely and Keane are willing to kill in order to see this job done properly," Don hissed urgently, desperate. "Why would you and Frazer be any different? Besides, it means cutting the money fewer ways, so it makes sense financially as well as tactically."

That said, Don took another bite of bread and turned his attention towards Keane as he walked into the room.

"Still eating?" Keane inquired.

"I untied the knots manually," Banner informed him.

Don's eyes darted briefly to the agent, weighing whether he had left out any mention of his reaction to the knife in light of their conversation or simply because he figured Keane would be able to put two and two together. When he turned his attention back to Keane, he was once more treated to an expression laced with regret, though this time it was more visible than before as Keane studied him closely. Those eyes missed nothing as they looked him over and Don wondered what was going through the man's mind.

Keane was a bit of a mystery to him. On the one hand, the man was clearly willing and able to kill in order to achieve his ends, not to mention using unsavory methods if he felt that was what the job called for. Yet, on the other hand, he seemed to also prefer not utilizing those methods if at all avoidable. Well, at least in his own mind. He'd once obviously believed enough in the government to join the military and potentially lay down his life to defend the US. Somewhere along the line something had changed, though he strongly suspected that Keane didn't view it as such a big change, but rather a small adjustment to how he'd always been.

The man still seemed to have his own code of honor, twisted though it may have become. Don just wished he understood it better so he could try and use it to his advantage.

"Then you'd better start on the others while he finishes his dinner," Keane stated, drawing his Beretta to cover Don.

"So, do I get the night off or will Frazer be back to 'play' some more?" Don demanded as he finished his meal, heavily stressing the last verb.

"You need not worry about him tonight."

Which meant Frazer might be back in the morning. Don shoved the thought aside, relieved he'd be left alone for a good few hours. It would give his body some time to start healing and for him to collect his composure and get over the shock of what had been done to him. Nothing could possibly prepare him for another round, or more, with Frazer, but at least he was being given some time to recover before the fugitive was allowed to work on him some more. He would take anything he could get.

"There," Banner finally said, once he'd snapped the cuffs in place.

Don slowly flexed his arms before stretching his cramped legs, wincing all the while. The movement caused his sore and abused muscles to scream in protest in addition to stretching the torn skin of his arms. There was the very serious possibility that getting up and moving around would reopen some of the cuts, but he really did need to use the bathroom and he could do with some more water as well.

Though Keane seemed willing to let him take his time, Don didn't want to press his luck and cautiously pushed himself to his feet. Pain shot through him from so many different sources that it all seemed to blend into one massive hurt with the wound being his entire body. It really did feel like one open injury right now. One open and sore wound.

When the worst of it had passed, Don opened eyes he hadn't been aware of closing and took a cautious step forwards. He saw a flash of emotion cross Banner's face, but it was gone too quickly for him to identify what it was. Unable to say anything to the NSA agent in front of Keane, he concentrated instead on making his way to the bathroom. It took far too long before he was standing before the sink, clumsily washing his right hand, his left one all but useless. That done, he finally lifted his head and looked into the mirror, something he'd avoided until then.

He hardly recognized the man staring back at him from the dirty glass. He'd been correct in guessing that his face was a mask of blood. The thick liquid obscured many of the cuts and partially disguised the extent of the damage even as it enhanced the wounds that were visible. Don winced as his eyes found the cut that had come so close to taking out his right eye. He shuddered at the memory and forced his eyes away, further down his body. The skin around his ribs that first Keane had kicked and then Frazer had aggravated was starting to bruise spectacularly despite the blood that coated much of the area.

The first impulse that surfaced was the desire to wash the blood off, to clean himself up, but he squashed it. Though it would provide some mental relief, the physical consequences of doing so weren't worth it in the slightest. First off, he didn't have so much as a shirt to use to dry himself off after he'd gotten the blood off, so he'd freeze and potentially catch a cold. Second, washing the dried blood off was likely to reopen at least some of the cuts and he had nothing with which to stem the flow, so he'd merely be exacerbating the problem. And finally, cleaning himself was not only likely to anger Frazer, but to be taken as a challenge. It was quite possible it would make the fugitive assault him again that much sooner.

Decision reluctantly made, Don leaned forwards and drank directly from the tap until he'd quenched as much of his thirst as he dared. He then slowly made his way back to his chair, noticing that Lawson had returned to his desk in his absence. The boy paled alarmingly as he glanced at him and Don had to force himself not to give him a reassuring look, not wanting to give away how close they'd gotten. Well, that and he sincerely doubted he could pull off reassuring having just seen his own reflection.

"Wait," Keane said before he could seat himself once more. "Put this on."

With his slowed reflexes, Don was only just able to catch the navy blue shirt thrown at him. He looked at it for a second before glancing back at Keane. What was the point? Frazer was probably just going to rip or cut it off of him first chance he got.

"I'm going to take another photo for your brother," Keane stated simply as Banner undid the cuffs, knowing more wouldn't be necessary.

Don's hands clenched on the shirt and he closed his eyes for a moment before he slowly started putting the shirt on. Much as he'd love to resist, to make a move or go for either Keane or Banner, he knew he'd never succeed and would only get shot for his efforts. Something which he really couldn't afford at present as he was already far too weak for his liking. He knew that if he didn't make a move soon, he'd no longer be capable of doing so, but he still desperately hoped for an opportunity slightly better than suicidal. Instead he silently cursed himself for not having thought that Keane would use the opportunity to take a photo. If he'd thought of it, he'd probably have washed himself in order to save Charlie from having to see him like this.

His cuts stung and Don felt some of them break open once more as he raised his arms painfully to get the shirt on over his head, but that didn't deter him in the slightest, nor did the screaming of his ribs, though the fact that he was able to raise his arms at all gave him hope that they were merely cracked and not broken. The less Charlie had to see, the better and he was sure his team would realize the significance of his suddenly wearing a new shirt even if his brother didn't.

**

* * *

**

**Wednesday, 14:22  
Basement, Unknown Location**

It was funny how malleable time could appear to be given the right circumstances, Don mused as he stared at the clock which seemed to be running even slower than before. Now that he wasn't being drugged the whole time, he found that he was bored out of his mind. He'd long since analyzed and reanalyzed all that he knew about what was going on as well as his conversation with Banner. Now there was absolutely nothing he could do but wait to see if he'd managed to get through to the NSA agent. He'd also gone over a dozen different escape scenarios, but each and every one of them were all but suicidal given that one of the two men monitoring him when he was allowed out of the chair always had a gun aimed at him. What he needed was a way to alter the status quo but he kept coming up empty.

As he closed his eyes in frustration, Don resisted the urge to tug at his restraints once more. He'd already tested the strength of the knots earlier and found them to be expertly tied. Any attempt on his part to loosen them would only result in aggravating his already chaffed wrists and causing him to loose even more blood. Not to mention the agony it would ignite in his left hand by moving the broken bones. He just hated sitting here, doing nothing as time slowly ticked away on his life. Where the hell was his team? Why hadn't Charlie told them of what was going on? Surely he had to know how much better the odds were of successfully recovering a kidnap victim if the Bureau was involved right from the start.

Come on, Charlie!

The sound of someone on the stairs distracted Don from his dark thoughts towards his brother and drew his fearful attention towards the door. True to his word, Keane had prevented Frazer from bothering him during the night, but that was now past and he kept expecting the fugitive to return for round three, or four if you considered the original attack at CalSci. Regardless, it was far too many and he honestly wasn't sure how much more torture he could take. Already the mere thought of Frazer's presence filled him with horror and dread, causing his heart rate to soar and sweat to break out on his skin.

Relief like that which he'd seldom known swept through him as the door opened to reveal Lawson. It didn't last very long for he caught the wild and desperate look in the boy's eyes and knew something was terribly wrong.

"What happened?" Don demanded.

"Banner," Lawson replied shakily. "He... Keane... oh God!"

"Banner? Keane? What is it?"

"Banner, he, he tried to get out last night."

"Out of here?" Don questioned with a sinking heart.

He had a sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly what had happened, though he desperately hoped that he was wrong. If it he wasn't, then the gamble he'd taken had failed and there were bound to be serious consequences for him. Damn Banner!

"Yeah, he wanted out of this... this whole thing," Lawson gestured at the desk helplessly. "Said something about not being stupid and all."

"I see. I assume he was caught?"

"Frazer."

The sheer amount of emotions Lawson managed to put into the name showed just how deeply witnessing the torture had affected him. Don swallowed as the reminder threatened to release the dam he'd forced around his own emotions. It looked like Banner had given some serious thought to what he'd said, mulled it over and then decided that he was right. Only, instead of getting angry enough at Keane and Blakely to attempt to sabotage their plans by releasing himself and Lawson, the man had chosen to try and run, to save his own skin.

Was it simply a matter of coincidence that Frazer had caught him trying to sneak out or had Keane gotten the man to watch Banner? Or perhaps it was simply Frazer's hate of authorities of all stripes that had caused him to keep a close eye on the other man.

"Did he kill him?"

"N- no," Lawson replied, shaking his head frantically. "He brought him back to Keane."

Don had to admit to being impressed with Frazer's restraint there, he'd have thought the man would have used the opportunity to simply kill Banner and then try to explain it away to Keane afterwards. Could he really have that much more control when dealing with someone he didn't hate so much? Unfortunately for him, Banner being taken alive meant that Keane might learn exactly who had planted the seeds of the whole idea in his head.

"Where is he now?"

"In one of the rooms upstairs. F- Frazer has h- hung him from the ceiling by his arms."

Or Frazer didn't have more restraint with Banner, he'd simply held off killing him in order to be able to 'play' with him a little first. On some level, Don found that he was happy at this turn of events, rather than simply being horrified at another man's torture. The longer Frazer was occupied with Banner, the longer he'd be left in peace.

"Frazer's torturing him, isn't he?" Don questioned heavily.

Lawson merely nodded instead of responding, looking close to a total nervous collapse. Didn't Keane realize what he was doing to the boy, Don wondered. Couldn't he see it? Or was Lawson not important enough for him to take much note of? Someone like Keane would have a hard time empathizing with anyone else, especially a geek like Lawson. It was amazing enough already that he seemed to feel something for him, though it seemed based more on admiration of his abilities and skills and the waste of potential it all represented than on anything that made him a person.

He just hoped that Lawson could hold on for a bit longer. Don was sure that something was going to give sooner rather than later at this point, it was just a matter of time really. Either he would come up with a workable escape plan, his team would find them or Keane would end things on his terms. While he hated to acknowledge the latter option, it was a real possibility that couldn't be ignored. In the meantime, though, he had this mess to deal with first, not that he was sure what he was going to say when Keane came down to speak to him about it.

Well, at least he'd managed to prove that he wasn't quite as harmless as Keane had assumed he now was.

Somehow that wasn't quite as comforting as he'd hoped it would be. Not when it was like this, when he was still stuck helplessly at Keane's mercy.

**

* * *

**

**So, here you go, Don tried something in an attempt to get himself and Lawson free and it backfired on him. Now what will the consequences of this be? I did say what he'd figured out would give him enough rope to hand himself with. Poor man.  
Now you know the circumstances leading up to the fourth photo and how it was taken. We are now also quickly approaching the point in time at which Part IV ended and this part will go a bit further than it, but not by much.  
The surprise character listed will soon be revealed and we are rapidly reaching the main climax of the fic. In fact, the next chapter takes us to Thursday and the start of the time sequence which will stretch across the last three chapters of Part V (if it doesn't grow longer on me yet again).  
Slowly but surely we're getting there!**


	21. Part V: Chapter 21

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Note_: For anyone who is saving this fic as you go, I made a slight but important change to the last chapter. From the reviews, no one seemed to catch the error, but I found one that I couldn't let stand. Basically, I realized I'd forgotten something just before posting the chapter and added it in... not realizing that it would cause a tiny inconsistency with something a bit further on. In essence, I had Don putting on the shirt while still handcuffed. I just added in a few words where Banner undoes the cuffs first. Sorry about that.  
Also, the next few chapters may be posted at a different time of day from normal as I'm going to visit my parents in the States. As of yet I'm not sure if it'll go up sooner in the day (no work!) or later (time difference!). Sorry if it inconveniences anyone.

**

* * *

**

_**Part V: Don:** Basement_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 21:**_

**Wednesday, 14:36  
Basement, Unknown Location**

Luckily, or unluckily, Don didn't have to wait long before Keane stormed into the room, a thunderous expression on his face.

"Lawson, out," Keane ordered, waiting until the boy was gone to turn his attention to his prisoner.

"Trouble in paradise?" Don inquired with a small smile.

It wasn't the smartest thing in the world to do, he knew, but Keane already planned to execute him and allow Frazer to torture him some more beforehand. All in all, Don rather thought it couldn't get any worse, so he could take as many potshots at Keane as he wanted to.

"You're even more dangerous than I realized," Keane finally replied. "I underestimated you. It won't happen again."

"I take it Frazer got Banner to talk."

"Oh, yes, Jeremy spilled his guts all about the bee you placed in his bonnet."

"The bee I..." Don trailed off, comprehension dawning. "Is that what you told Frazer it was? A trick of mine?"

"Didn't really need to, he's already more than willing to believe you capable of nearly anything."

"Not to mention the fact that he'd never listen to anything I'd have to say."

"Exactly," Keane agreed, looking at him calculatingly. "Now, what am I going to do with you?"

"What? You afraid I'm going to cause even more trouble? I'm flattered."

"No, but then, I hadn't thought you would yesterday."

"That's because you left me a weak link to chip away at. Now there are no more opportunities," Don argued, not wanting to get drugged again.

"Oh? And how do you figure that?"

"Frazer, as I said earlier, hates me too much to listen to me and Lawson is too terrified of what you'll do to his sister to even think about resisting, let alone contemplate it."

"We did find the right weakness there," Keane agreed, his features twisting into a malicious smile. "Just like with your brother. So, tell me, Agent Eppes, how does it feel to be used against dear Charlie like this, hmm? What does it feel like to be nothing but a helpless pawn, unable to do a damn thing about what's happening to both you and your baby brother?"

The words were like a punch to the gut, but Don forced his expression to remain bland. He'd just scored a victory of sorts, he wasn't going to allow Keane to needle him so easily now.

"Same way you'll feel once you're in jail, I imagine," Don retorted.

Keane regarded him in surprise for a moment before he threw his head back and laughed. "You really don't give up, do you? Pray tell, just how do you see me ending up in jail? I hold all the cards here."

"And yet I was able to cause you problems and I'm just one, unarmed agent. Imagine what my team could do."

"What, you mean beyond chasing their tails?" Keane shot back, chilling Don.

"What?"

"Oh, you didn't think I'd leave things up to chance as far as they were concerned, not after going to so much trouble in other areas, now did you?"

"What did you do?"

Don fought to keep his tone as near to emotionless as he could manage; a team leader worried about his people instead of a concerned friend. He had no intention of giving Keane any more ammunition than he already had.

"Simply gave them a false trail to waste their time following. I'm not stupid, Eppes, I know what kind of response would be provoked if something happened to a team while looking for a missing supervising agent. I've no intention of unleashing that kind of fury on me."

"And yet you have no qualms about killing either Banner or me, which will result in the same kind of responses. Well, at least in my case."

"Yes, I doubt the NSA would be much interested in avenging Banner's death, not once they learn the truth of what he did. But even if they were, it wouldn't matter to me, as I'm sure you've already figured out for yourself."

"It won't work," Don stated, the conviction in his voice not as strong as he'd wanted it to be. "There'll be traces of your presence."

"Funny, that's the same thing a two-bit cop in Detroit told me and yet there was never any question in the investigators' minds that my cover story was what really happened."

The words confirmed the suspicion that had been growing in Don's mind that this wasn't the first time Keane and Blakely had orchestrated this type of scenario. If he got out of here, he'd need to see if he couldn't uncover some more of their work. Luckily Keane had now given him a very good starting point.

"Yeah, but that was probably when things were still going according to plan."

"You've ruined my original plan, that's true, but I've always been very good at improvising," Keane declared. "Besides, I don't think you've realized the negative consequences of your actions yet."

"Like what? What could you possibly do to me that's worse than what you've already got in store for me?"

"Oh, I wasn't talking about you, at least not directly, nor about what I could do in revenge, merely what I need to alter to make up for Banner's... ah, defection."

"Still thinking like a soldier, eh? I'd have thought you would have lost that by now," Don replied, his heart sinking.

"It's served me well for decades, why mess with it? Now, the first consequence is that poor Lawson's burdens and role just became a whole lot larger. Without Banner, it falls to him to carry out Jeremy's parts of the plan when it comes to the NSA. As for your brother, well, I obviously can't go see him as that would ruin the cover story, nor can Lawson, which leaves only Frazer."

The nausea was back and Don's blood ran cold at the thought of the fugitive near his brother, let alone interacting with him. He jerked at the ropes tying him down before he'd thought about it and was left cursing in pain as his left hand exploded in a fiery ball of agony. What would otherwise have been all consuming now wasn't, in light of the imminent threat to his brother.

"No!"

"You've left me with no choice," Keane replied simply. "Consequences of your actions, all of that. But don't worry, I've already told him not to touch Dr. Eppes, he's too valuable to us."

"_You've told him?_ Have you considered that may not be enough?"

"Sure, which is why I told him he'd not be allowed another go at you if he harmed your brother."

Hysterical laughter bubbled up within Don. So his options were to wish for no more torture, which would mean Frazer hurting Charlie, or to wish for Charlie to remain safe and be the center of attention of the sociopath with a knife again. Not a good set of options even though there was no question in his mind which he'd choose if given the choice. He could only hope Frazer didn't realize which option would affect him more. The man had shown no inclination to do anything but torture him and he sincerely hoped it remained that way. It should, though, as Frazer didn't strike him as the type who'd be satisfied with leaving him alive even if it was to live with eternal regrets. The fugitive was too hands on for that and too direct in his approach.

Don had killed his brother and thus Don had to die, slowly and painfully. It was as simple as that. Well, except for the fact that he'd now seemingly added Coop to his vendetta as well for being there when it happened.

"He'll behave," Keane stated confidently.

Just then the door opened and the man in question entered the room. Don tensed up instantly, all of his attention shifting to Frazer as the greater threat even though the logical part of him knew it wasn't smart to dismiss Keane so readily. Rational thought held little sway at the moment though.

"Did I forget to mention that Banner's loss also means you'll be seeing more of Darien for meals and bathroom breaks?" Keane asked innocently.

Don's eyes flashed briefly to Keane before returning to Frazer. So that's why the man had not punished him yet, he'd done that enough himself. Well, on the bright side, there was one less person for him to deal with if he managed to escape.

"Did you miss me?" Frazer asked, opening his knife as he approached.

Involuntarily, Don flinched, ignoring the resulting laughter in favor of keeping his attention focused on the blade. God, not again. Instead of going for his face or chest as before, the knife was directed at his left wrist. It was with a start that Don remembered what Keane had said about bathroom breaks, but it was enough for him to gain some control over the terror that had swamped his mind. The hard won control was nearly shattered as Frazer sliced into the skin as he cut the rope.

"Oops," Frazer said, a delighted smile on his face. "My bad."

Don opened his mouth to snap back a retort, but clamped it shut as the fugitive lifted the knife to his lips and licked it clean. He closed his eyes and fought down the urge to vomit, having caught the expression on the psychopath's face.

"Mmm."

It came as no surprise when the knife cut into his other wrist after the handcuffs had been snapped into place around both wrists. He opened his eyes in time to see Frazer close the knife, blade still bloody, once he'd cut the ropes tying his ankles to the chair. Why would he do that?

"Up you get," Keane ordered, motioning with his Beretta.

With clenched teeth, Don did as he was told. The routine went as normal until he approached the desk on his way back to his chair. The glint of light reflecting off of something on the floor caught his eye and he glanced down, seeing a shard of glass lying partially obscured beneath one of the many hard drives. Instantly realizing that this was the opportunity he'd been waiting for, Don pretended to stumble and braced himself, knowing the sign of weakness would be too much for Frazer to resist. As expected, a blow landed on his back and he let it take him down, rolling towards the hard drive and the glass.

"Clumsy bastard," Frazer said, amused. "Not so tough now, are you?"

Don ignored Frazer's taunts and did his best to ensure he managed to grab the glass shard in such a way that it was carefully hidden from view in his right palm. This was almost definitely going to be his only chance of getting out of here on his own and he wasn't going to waste it. The glass had most likely come from the tray of dishes Lawson had dropped yesterday and if he were caught with it, he didn't doubt Keane would do a thorough sweep to ensure no other shards remained. Once he'd secured his prize, he turned his attention back to his surroundings and tried to roll away from the kick Frazer had aimed for him, but wasn't quite fast enough. There was an audible crack as another of his ribs snapped and Don bit his lip to prevent himself from screaming.

"Enough!" Keane barked. "We can't risk him getting a life threatening injury until we have what we need. Besides, you need to get to CalSci."

A moan escaped Don as he forced himself to his feet but, despite the pain, he didn't think anything vital had been punctured by the rib. He was intimately acquainted with the feeling of a punctured lung after all. Slowly, he walked back to his chair and gingerly lowered himself into it. The clenching of his fist to keep hold of the glass shard likely made it look like he was angry or in pain, which he was, so it seemed to arouse no suspicions as Frazer tied him down and removed the cuffs once more.

"I'll give your brother my regards, shall I?" Frazer baited.

"Go to hell."

**

* * *

**

**Thursday, 17:09  
Basement, Unknown Location**

The soft, rhythmic tapping of computer keys was the first thing Don heard as he slowly surfaced once more. The dryness in his mouth and the residual haze in his mind instantly brought back the memory of Keane sticking him with a needle yet again. Now that he'd proven how dangerous he really could be even while tied down, the man was taking no chances despite the fact that there was no one left for him to influence as he had Banner. It was like closing the barn door after the horses were long gone, but Keane had been unconvinced.

A quick glance about proved he and Lawson were alone.

"Greg," Don said softly, not wanting to startle the boy like he had the last time.

"What?" Lawson replied warily.

"My brother, is he alright? Frazer went to see him."

The question caused a softening of Lawson's features and the boy briefly brought the footage from Charlie's office up on the monitor for him to see for himself.

"He's fine. Frazer scared him some, but didn't hurt him."

"Thanks."

"I- I'm supposed to call them when you're awake."

Don sighed. He should have been expecting this. Keane was probably going to drug him continually now, only allowing him to wake in between to prevent him from making a mess. He'd been put under so quickly yesterday, he'd not had much time before he'd lost consciousness, but he'd figured out how best to hold the shard to minimize cutting himself and maximize cutting the rope and he'd managed to wedge the glass shard between his wrist and the arm of the chair. When the glass had first sliced his skin, he'd nearly dropped it, the rush of emotions accompanying the breaking of his skin around a sharp edge catching him completely off-guard given the lack of a knife present. The realization of just how deeply Frazer had managed to affect him followed swiftly. _That_ did more to shake him than the actual torture itself had.

Was this his reality now? To break down every time he managed to accidentally cut himself? The thought chilled him and his mind rebelled at the lack of control it represented. The thing he'd always feared the most was getting injured on the job in such a way that he lost control of part, or all, of his body. To become dependent upon others for simple, everyday things. In some ways, this was similar to that, only the handicap was mental instead of physical. His response and reactions were out of his control, they just slipped out at the sight of Frazer or a knife. And now, apparently, also at the sensation of his skin getting cut open and his blood running from the wound.

In the end, Don had managed to keep hold of the glass, though it had taken the thought of what Frazer would do to him if he didn't manage to escape in order to continue. He'd have to keep in mind just how good of an incentive that was, it should help him overcome any obstacle thrown in his path.

Like now, the knowledge that Frazer would shortly be down in the room with him, using his knife, was nearly enough to incapacitate him with dread. And terror, though he'd never admit that to anyone. Don had hoped to be able to cut himself free and escape by avoiding both Keane and Frazer as he was in no condition to take on either man, let alone both of them, whether together or apart. That, however, didn't look like it would be an option. It appeared that Keane was serious in his intention to keep him doped up until they got what they wanted from Charlie. He could either act now or wait for his team to rescue him.

Given how long he'd already been a prisoner, what Keane had said and what would happen to him if his team failed to get here in time, it was really a no-brainer. The mere thought of getting stabbed again once, let alone multiple times or with the amber drug, was enough to make him seriously consider damn near suicidal options. Hell, he was pretty sure that if it looked like they were close to the point of his planned execution, he would give serious thought to simply forcing Keane's hand by having a go at them. If he was going to die, then it would be on his terms, not Keane's and most definitely not Frazer's. Not if he had anything to say about it and Keane would find he was still allowing him far too much free rein to stop him from doing that.

All of which meant he'd have to try something when Keane and Frazer were not only in the room with him, but alert, armed and ready for him to try something. Well, unlike his brother, Don had never let the odds influence him. In fact, he normally thrived on impossible odds, so this should be a good thing. Really, it should. Not wanting to risk the shard being discovered or losing it when he was drugged once more, he realized that not only would he have to do it with Keane and Frazer around, but he'd have to do it now as well.

"Then you'd better do as they said," Don replied. "Tell them I'm awake."

**

* * *

**

**So, Keane has realized that this is very much a case of the consequences being more than enough punishment for Don to not add anything more to it. Furious as he is with Don, he can't help but admire that he figured out the plan and managed to turn Banner against him.  
What Keane hasn't really thought about is that he's pushed Don so much that Don has reached a point where it makes more sense to resist than not to. As one of my betas put it, if he struggles and dies, it means no more torture, and if he struggles and escapes, he's free. So a win-win for him as opposed to what Keane has planned.  
Did you catch the little tie in back to the earlier Charlie chapter with Frazer leaving the blood on the knife when he sheaths it? It's the opposite of when I had Frazer tell Charlie that Banner was 'hung up' and couldn't make it. Only now you know the why at the time of the clue.  
As I've said before, we're rapidly reaching the end of this fic. Just 6 more chapters (it grew on me again!) unless something changes, one way or the other. If you look, the last scene took place on Thursday, the day where everything comes to a head. It is the day the last part left off on. The final scene is actually the start of a scene that will span 4 chapters.**


	22. Part V: Chapter 22

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Note_: I'd like to sincerely apologize to everyone for how late this chapter is. I was going to post it on Monday, but when I turned on my laptop to do so, I got a blue screen with a registry file failure error that I simply could not get past. For a little while I feared that my laptop was dead and that I'd have lost the master file for this fic as well as all of my unfinished fics (there are a lot!). Luckily one of the IT guys at my dad's work volunteered to have a look at it and was able to fix it. So, relief of reliefs, not only has my laptop been saved, but all of my files have been saved!

**

* * *

**

_**Part V: Don:** Basement_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 22:**_

**Thursday, 17:17  
Basement, Unknown Location**

Don carefully manipulated the glass shard out from under his wrist and started cutting the rope again. If he craned his neck sideways, he could just make out the bit of the rope he was working on. The trick would be to stop cutting when there was just enough of it left to keep the rope in position and not arouse suspicion, but not so much that he wouldn't be able to rip it apart with one good jerk of his arm.

There were so many things that could go wrong with this crazy plan that Don didn't even want to really think about it, especially since so many of them were out of his control, but think about them he did. His tactical training forced him to go over everything that could happen as he worked, watching Lawson make the call to Keane. First and foremost was the fact that if the two men came down right away, he wouldn't be ready. He was banking on the fact that Keane would use the opportunity to feed him as well as let him use the restroom. He could only assume that Keane would be reintroducing the drugged oatmeal now that he was considered a threat once more. This could be a mixed blessing for him, though, working both for and against him. The time it would take to prepare the oatmeal would allow him to get to the point where he was as ready as possible, but it could also mean things would go differently from the way he wanted them to. Keane had set up a routine when it came to handling him and he was counting on that routine being followed.

Normally, whoever was taking care of the ropes snapped the handcuff into place around his left wrist, cut the rope, pulled his arm across to the right, snapped the cuff into place around his right wrist and cut the rope free. Generally this was followed by cutting his ankles free from the chair legs. The only time this pattern hadn't been followed had been on Tuesday when Banner had come down alone to feed him before Keane had joined them to allow him to use the restroom. In that case, his right wrist had been released first so that he could eat. If that happened again today, then his escape attempt would be doomed before it even began and there was nothing he could do about it. He assumed it wouldn't be repeated as there should be oatmeal again today and every time he'd been fed oatmeal, Keane had waited until he was back in his chair before allowing him to eat, probably to avoid the drugs taking him out before he'd returned to his chair under his own steam.

So he should probably be allowed up first today.

Hopefully.

Don hissed as the glass cut deeper into his fingers than before, the emotions churning up inside of him. _Frazer, knife, amber drug. Frazer, knife, amber drug._ The mantra worked and he was soon at the point where he feared that to continue would cause him to cut through the rope completely. While it was tempting to do so and then try and cut himself free entirely, he knew he didn't have the time for that. Nor did he know Lawson well enough to prevent him from alerting Keane as to what was going on. With the threat to his sister and the general level of compliance he'd seen from the boy so far, he had little doubt that Lawson would do anything other than warn Keane. The boy simply wasn't trained for this type of situation and was probably taking Keane's word as to how things would turn out. Not that Charlie wasn't probably doing exactly the same thing with Banner, especially if his suspicions were right about his brother not having informed his team about what was going on.

No, he simply couldn't count on Lawson at this point. He'd have to do this on his own, something Don wasn't exactly averse to as it meant not leaving his fate in anyone else's hands. Well, not any more than he could help it. Carefully shifting the glass in his hand so it was hidden from view but still firmly within his grasp, he waited impatiently for Keane and Frazer to arrive.

Luckily he didn't have to wait for more than a minute or two before the door to the basement opened and Keane stepped in, following closely by Frazer. Just like the last time, the mere sight of the fugitive was enough to tense his whole body and the adrenalin hit his system instantly. Frazer, ever attentive to him, laughed at the response, clearly delighted and impatient to continue his fun. The promise in his eyes was enough to cause Don's gut to drop and he clenched the good fingers of his left hand around the chair's arm.

Focus. Focus!

_Frazer, knife, amber drug. Frazer, knife, amber drug. Frazer, knife, amber drug._

"I see I rate oatmeal again," Don forced the words out. "Mmm, drugs."

"Indeed, you do," Keane replied, putting the tray on the floor near the chair.

Score one for me, Don thought with relief as Keane pulled out his Beretta and aimed it at him.

"Unless, of course, you prefer the syringe and needle?"

"No, no, the oatmeal's fine."

Well, so far so good. Then Frazer drew his knife, made the blade jump into view with a soft snick and terror flooded Don's mind. From the pain which his body screamed at him, he was sure he'd flinched back from the weapon. Surprisingly, the pain helped as it allowed him to focus on the present, even if that meant seeing the knife coming towards his left wrist. Relief warred within him with the terror, glad he'd at the very least get a chance to try and escape. It would have been better if Frazer would undo his legs first, but that would be making things too easy for him.

The slicing of the blade into the skin just above yesterday's cut right after the handcuff was locked around his wrist, nearly undid all of Don's efforts to remain coherent. His body and emotions determined to wrest control away from his mind to try and shield him from as much pain as possible by pulling away or shutting it out. Never mind that what he wanted to do now could mean that he'd never have to experience the bite of Frazer's blade again. Or the full length of it as it slid home into his body...

The thought was enough to allow Don to regain some of his faculties just as the rope around his left wrist gave way. Shoving the terror aside through sheer force of will, he glanced quickly at Keane to assess his position and level of alertness. Unfortunately the latter seemed completely locked on them, though he could tell the other man wasn't really expecting anything from him based on his relatively relaxed stance. If he was correct about the man's background and level of training, he wouldn't get more than a few precious seconds before Keane reacted, so he'd have to make it be enough. If not... he didn't even want to contemplate the alternative.

So as to give the least amount of warning possible, Don jerked both of his arms simultaneously, breaking the rope and freeing his left arm from Frazer's grip at the same time. Once he'd done that, he swung his left arm back towards the fugitive, letting the second handcuff dangling from his wrist catch the other man in the temple even as he brought his right hand with the glass shard around to stab at Frazer's knife hand. Since the man had swapped the knife to his non-dominant hand in order to manipulate his victim's handcuff, Don stabbed at his left hand, letting the momentum of his movement send him crashing into the fugitive.

Frazer cried out in surprise and pain from the dual assault as they tumbled to the concrete floor in a jumble of limbs with the chair still tied to Don's legs. He twisted around desperately to swipe the glass at the rope around his right ankle while he struck Frazer another blow across the temple with the cuffs, not giving the fugitive the chance to come to his senses and fight back.

The loud retort of the Beretta signaled that Keane had gotten over his shock and joined the fight. Luckily the bullet missed, but Don felt the impact of it with the chair jolt through him as his back was peppered with wood fragments. He tried to keep Frazer between himself and Keane, frantically hoping the man wouldn't dare risk his remaining scapegoat as then the whole plan would unravel around him and he'd be left with no one to blame the situation on. The glass slipped from his blood slick hand and he cursed, yanking his right leg and managing to snap the remaining rope free. Good, but that still left him with one limb attached to the heavy chair and nothing to cut it with.

"Give it up, Eppes!" Keane ordered, furious. "You've got nowhere to go."

Don cursed loudly as he realized that Keane was right. He was too far away from the desk to make a dash for it, even if he were in perfect health and didn't have a chair tied to his leg. Yet there was absolutely no way that he was going to let Keane restore the status quo, that simply _wasn't_ going to happen, not after the brief hope he'd felt that he could break free and escape. If Keane thought he'd meekly allow him to tie him up again so that Frazer could do whatever he wished to him, the man was sorely mistaken.

Unfortunately for him, Don had ended up facing Frazer's front when they'd fallen instead of his back, which was where he'd seen the fugitive keep his revolver. He didn't think he'd be able to reach around the fugitive's waist and grab the gun without Keane realizing what he was trying to do. Even as he heard Keane approach, Don suddenly remembered the knife that had caused him so much pain and terror. He couldn't believe that he'd forgotten about it. Looking about frantically as Frazer started muttering incoherently, Don spotted it lying partially underneath the other man.

Without thinking about the chances of success, Don grabbed the hilt of the knife and surged upwards, taking only a split-second to aim before throwing the knife at Keane. The split-second was enough for Keane to react and he pulled the trigger just before the knife caught him in the chest, sending him staggering backwards before he fell to the floor. Don tried to twist away, but cried out as he felt the bullet graze his right bicep, spinning him around. He fell heavily back to the floor, more agony tearing through him as the sudden impact jarred his body, his ribs complaining the loudest.

Briefly Don just lay there, wanting to do nothing more than simply close his eyes and let the darkness that swam at the edge of his vision carry him off. The twin moans he could hear, however, told him that he wasn't out of the woods just yet, not by a long shot. The knife, while painful, probably wouldn't keep Keane down unless he'd gotten really lucky, something he highly doubted given everything else that had already happened to him this week.

First, he had to get this chair off of him. Don placed his hands on the floor, intending to push himself up, only to hiss in pain as he sliced his left palm on something. He jerked his hand away, quickly, far too quickly, causing the broken bones to make their presence known. The pain nearly overwhelmed him, but he managed to remain conscious and looked down to see the glass he'd lost earlier lying next to him. Grabbing it, he quickly cut himself free from the chair and got to his feet. Seeing Keane moving about, reaching for his Beretta which he'd dropped when the knife had hit him, Don did the only thing he could think of and grabbed the chair, hurling it at the other man.

It made a satisfying crack as it hit Keane, knocking the man's head backwards to bounce off the concrete floor. Before Don could even think about anything else, a noise behind him alerted him to the fact that he'd lost track of Frazer just before something hard crashed into the back of his skull, sending him down once more to sprawl across the floor. He cried out in agony, rolling and curling into a protective ball instinctively. When the expected blows never came, he uncurled to ease the pain in his chest and looked up to find the fugitive standing over him, an enraged and crazed expression on his face and the revolver in his hand.

Don stared down the barrel of the gun at the bullet he could see inside it in resignation. So, this was it, despite all of his efforts, all of his successes in the past few minutes, he still couldn't escape his fate, the one Blakely and Keane had intended for him all along. The one Frazer had signed on for.

Even as he watched, Don saw some sanity return to Frazer's eyes and the aim of the gun shifted slightly so that it was now pointed at his left shoulder instead of right between his eyes. He resisted the urge to close his eyes as he realized that for this man, sanity- or at least control over his rage and impulses- meant more torture instead of a swift execution. Frazer clearly planned on dragging this out even further despite, or perhaps because of, everything that had happened in the past few minutes.

"You just cost me a couple of million," Frazer growled, the light in his eyes clearly indicating just how unstable the man had become.

Don didn't even consider explaining to him what he'd told Banner, knowing it was futile and just a waste of precious breath.

"What, nothing left to say, Eppes?"

"Bite... me," Don tossed out, hoping to tip the man's temper once more.

If he was going to die, he wanted it to be quick and not a long, drawn out affair for Frazer to savor. He was not going to be the bastard's entertainment. Not again and he didn't want to give him the opportunity to start thinking clearly. To start thinking about the knife and the amber drug.

As expected, rage flooded Frazer's face and the gun's aim shifted back towards his head once more. Don kept his eyes open long enough to see the finger start to tighten on the trigger before he closed them, not wanting to see the bullet coming at him. Instead he pictured his girlfriend and family, silently sending them an apology.

Two shots fired in rapid succession echoed through the basement.

**

* * *

**

**As promised the last time, here we see that Don, being Don, is unable to simply sit by and hope for that the best. He has already waited for an opportunity to present itself, or for his team to arrive, so now that he has a chance, he's gonna take it, regardless of the potential consequences. So, here is his escape attempt and the consequences thereof...  
This is the biggest cliff-hanger of this fic and has been a long time coming. It was written many weeks ago and what I've been working towards ever since then. Can anyone guess where this is going?  
Also, the next chapter will reveal the surprise character mentioned in the header of the fic. Just out of curiosity, has anyone guessed who it will be?**


	23. Part V: Chapter 23

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Note_: Here we go, the resolution to the evil cliffy of the last chapter. I hope you enjoy seeing what happens and learning who fired those two shots. From the responses I got to my question from last time, I know that not too many people guessed who the surprise character is, but I hope you can see the how and why of it.

**

* * *

**

_**Part V: Don: **Basement_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 23:**_

**Thursday, 17:29  
Basement, 372 Kinnard Avenue**

The spatter of blood on his face was the first thing to register in Don's stunned mind. It was followed less than a second later by an explosion of pain as something heavy fell on top of him, reigniting all of his injuries and he cried out, the pain overwhelming his senses. He must have blacked out for a few seconds, because he came to with a start, disoriented. There was a roaring in his ears and it took him a few seconds to realize that it wasn't simply the echo of the shots within the enclosed space.

Why wasn't he dead? At that range, Frazer couldn't have missed, it was impossible.

The thought penetrated the haze of agony just as he felt the weight on top of him shift before being lifted away. Fighting off unconsciousness once again through sheer force of will, Don forced his eyes open, coming face to face with Frazer. Or at least what had been Frazer for, despite the look of stunned shock upon his face, the eyes were vacant, dead.

"-onny?"

Don blinked as the voice reached him. Just then Frazer moved backwards before slumping towards the left and another face replaced his.

Pale skin, red hair, blue eyes, freckles.

"Donny? Shit, Eppes, can you hear me?"

"Billy?" Don questioned in disbelief.

Maybe he _had_ died. What was Coop doing here? Had the bullet perhaps grazed his head instead of penetrating it? Was he hallucinating? The last desperate attempt of an exhausted and defeated mind to save itself?

"Yeah, Donny, it's me."

The voice was rough and relieved at once, just like it had been after any of the countless close encounters they'd shared.

"You real?"

Don had to be sure, he couldn't take it if this wasn't real. If he woke only to find himself facing Frazer once more...

Billy blinked at the question, his eyes hardening as they quickly darted about the room before returning to his former partner to assess his injuries. He didn't need to be a genius to guess what had happened here. Not with Frazer involved, not after what the man had sworn he'd do to Don.

"Yeah, I'm real," Billy confirmed, reaching out to clasp his former partner's blood slicked right hand.

Briefly, Don maintained his suspicions, before he allowed the tension to drain from him, glancing down at the other man's hand to which his clung tightly. He knew he'd be embarrassed later, but just now he didn't care. His gaze slid sideways as a sea of red caught his eye and he saw that the entire front of the shirt Keane had given him was soaked in blood. Frazer's blood, his blood. The thought of the other man's blood seeping into his open wounds caused a wave of revulsion to rise within him and he dropped Coop's hand, scrabbling at the shirt.

"Whoa! Whoa! Easy, Donny!" Billy exclaimed, reaching out to grasp the other man's wrist gently. "What's wrong?"

"Shirt!" Don gasped out, tugging uselessly at the hands restraining him. "His blood... my blood... off!"

"Okay, okay, I've got it. Don't move."

Don nodded, knowing it would be faster if Coop did it. He looked back down and could already detect the new blotches of red forming from where his own injuries had been reopened during the fight and when Frazer had crashed into him. He swallowed down a hysterical laugh at the thought that even dead the man was still hurting him.

"Okay, here."

The snick of a blade springing out and a flash of silver had Don cringing back with an involuntary cry, unable to move enough to flinch properly.

Billy froze instantly, eyes widening at the reaction before they narrowed dangerously and his hand clenched around the hilt of the knife, his fingers working the mechanism and the blade disappeared once more. It took Don a few moments to tear his eyes from the unopened knife and seek out his friend's face instead. Coop was paler than he'd ever seen him, though his eyes burned bright with a furious rage and his jaw was as tightly clenched as his hand was around the hilt of the knife in his hand.

The realization of what had just happened, of _whom_ he'd just reacted in fear to, hit Don like a truck, leaving him gasping for air. The horror clawed at his throat and fear completely different from that which had just blanketed his mind rose within him. If he reacted like this with Coop, one of his best friends ever and a man whom he trusted implicitly, then how the hell could he go back to being a field agent where he might encounter knives in the hands of those he could be certain wanted to use them against him?

No! He couldn't let that happen. He _wouldn't_ let that happen. If it came to that, if he couldn't overcome this fear, irrational as it was in the present circumstances, then he'd be letting Frazer win. That was simply unacceptable. He was _not_ going to let the man ruin his life, especially not from beyond the grave.

"Donny?" The alarm was back in Billy's voice.

"Yeah... I'm still here."

"I can-" Billy started, imitating ripping the shirt open with his bare hands.

"No," Don replied, licking his lips. "Use... knife. Faster."

"Donny, are you sure?"

"S'okay. Do... it."

Not watching his former partner's face, Don missed the flash of uncertainty that crossed it before the redhead pressed the release, causing the blade to jump out once more. Although he was expecting it, Don couldn't stop the minute muscle spasm and it took him a moment before he could rip his eyes from the blade to meet Coop's concerned ones. Billy held his gaze for a heartbeat before he leaned closer, keeping his movements calm. Don closed his eyes as the knife was brought the last few inches towards his upper body so that Coop could get it under the collar of the shirt and pull it downwards.

The movement was followed by a gasp as his shirt was pulled open and Coop caught sight of his chest. A familiar string of curses filled the air and Don found himself relaxing. How often had he heard that while on the road all those years ago? Billy had used those same words every time a fugitive had escaped them or one of them had managed to get injured.

When he heard the knife snick closed once more, Don opened his eyes to find his former partner raising his cell to his ear.

"This is FBI Special Agent William Cooper, 6896, I need two ambulances at 372 Kinnard Avenue. I have an agent down and in need of urgent medical attention."

Kinnard Avenue. The name sounded vaguely familiar and Don tried to remember where he'd heard it before, but was unable to recall it.

"He's got multiple lacerations to his entire upper torso, face and arms, assorted cuts and bruises to his entire body, burn wounds to his face, throat and torso, difficulty breathing, perhaps a few cracked or broken ribs," Billy raised his eyebrow at the last.

Don gave a quick nod before he held up his left hand so his friend could see the swelling and unnatural angle of his fingers.

"Several broken fingers," Billy added, the rage thick in his voice and shooting from his eyes. "Moderate to severe blood loss, malnutrition and possible dehydration. He's been held prisoner and tortured for nearly a week."

The darkness was back at the edge of Don's vision, slowly encroaching upon it now that the adrenaline was finally starting to wear off. He blinked rapidly to try and overcome it, but it was very difficult now that the danger was past; now that there was someone he trusted implicitly present to watch over him.

"No, I've another call to make," Billy stated before he hung up on the person. "Hey, hey, Donny, stay with me here."

"Tired."

"I know, but you gotta stay with me, you know the drill."

"Cruel... bastard."

"Yeah, you know it. Now, how 'bout we call that boy of yours, what's his name? Sin something."

"Sinclair."

"Yeah, him."

With a concentrated effort, Don forced his head up and looked at his friend. Even as he did so, Coop jammed the phone between his shoulder and ear so his hands were free to unlock the cuff still attached to his wrist. He clenched his teeth to suppress the hiss of pain that wanted to escape despite Billy's careful ministrations.

"I need to speak to Special Agent Sinclair immediately, it's an emergency. This is Special Agent Cooper, 6896."

What was he doing here anyway?

"I've found Don," Billy stated without preamble, his eyes focused on his former partner.

Don knew he must have faded out a bit as the next thing he knew, Coop was leaning over him, saying his name and looking concerned.

"I'm here," Don said, trying to focus on something other than the pain.

It amazed him how much he'd relaxed with Billy here. He wasn't even doing it consciously, it was just instinct. It proved how close they'd been, Don figured. Yet now that he was aware of how easily he'd relinquished control to the redhead, he couldn't help but start to think about the situation again.

"You tell... David where... we are?"

"Yeah, they're coming, don't you worry, though I suspect you'll be on the way to the hospital by then," Billy stated. "He sounded really relieved to know I'd found you. You gave everyone quite a scare."

"Not my fault," Don protested weakly. "I was... ambushed an- Keane!"

"Whoa! No, down, stay down!" Billy ordered.

"No, Keane!"

Don tried to push himself upright but found he was no match for the gentle pressure Coop gingerly applied to his shoulders.

"Donny, you need to stay down or you'll hurt yourself even more. Just for once in your life, will you wait for the damned paramedics before getting up?"

"But, Keane!"

"Who's Keane? The guy with the knife in him?"

"Yeah."

"Then relax, I've already checked and cuffed him, did it when I first entered," Billy stated. "He's not going anywhere or doing anything, even if he recovers from that wound. You put the blade there?"

"Yeah. He was... gonna shoot me."

Coop's words calmed Don and he sagged back to the floor before the knowledge of what he'd done hit him.

_"You put the blade there?"_

It was such an innocuous question in a way. Coop was merely inquiring about what had transpired before his arrival on the scene, but it made Don stop and think about what had happened. From the moment he'd launched himself at Frazer, he'd been acting on a combination of instinct and training. In that type of situation there wasn't much time to think, simply to act and react to what was happening. He'd been relying on his years of experience in the field and his tactical expertise which, as always, had served him well even if he wouldn't still be alive but for Coop's timely arrival on the scene. He'd taken on two healthy and armed opponents while wounded and, essentially, unarmed. The fact that he'd taken out even one of them was a major accomplishment, if he did say so himself.

The thing that really struck him, though, wasn't that he'd successfully taken down Keane, but that he'd done so with a knife. With Frazer's knife, the very same one that had been used to torture him. The mere thought of the weapon was enough to make him shudder as he could perfectly recall the feel of its bite as Frazer traced it over his body. Each and every cut was permanently etched into his memory and just thinking about it threatened to bring it all back to him... simultaneously.

Don swallowed hard, both to help stave off the memories and at the reminder of just how deeply Frazer had managed to reach him. He hated the knowledge, the weakness, that could well ruin his career and affect him for the rest of his life. Not wanting to ponder that thought, he desperately grasped at the only straw he could see. Despite all of the torture and all of the pain that the knife had inflicted upon him in Frazer's hand, he hadn't hesitated. Although it was true that the mere thought of the blade now chilled his blood and threatened to send him under in a deluge of terror and phantom pain, in the heat of the moment he hadn't even hesitated. Instead he'd seen an opportunity, a weapon, and he'd taken it, as simple as that. Whether that was training or merely survival instinct, he didn't know, but it didn't really matter. It gave him hope that, despite everything that had happened to him, had been done to him, he could overcome it.

There was no way he'd let Frazer win, especially now that the man was dead and could never harm him again. Don wasn't sure how to go about combating the all consuming terror that now dwelt within him, but he was damned if he wouldn't try. It was, however, an issue for later. There were more important things to deal with now, and if those things allowed him to turn his mind away from the knife, then so much the better.

It was mind-boggling, really, how quickly the situation had changed. Frazer, dead; Keane, injured and cuffed; Banner, most likely tortured to death at Frazer's hands. That took care of all the immediate players. Wait, what about-

The sound of a door opening startled Coop into action. Before he could blink, Don found Billy crouched protectively before him, his gun out and aimed at the bathroom door where Lawson stood, frozen in place, eyes glued to Coop. The poor boy's mouth was open in a silent scream and Don could read the terror there. Exactly when Lawson had fled to the bathroom, he wasn't sure, but he figured it was probably shortly after he'd launched himself at Frazer and the fighting had begun. The boy had probably cowered there, too scared to come out and see what had happened until now.

"Billy, no!" Don warned, his right hand coming up to touch his old partner's ankle. "He's been coerced into this."

"FBI. Now, step forwards," Billy told Lawson, his gun lowering slightly but not yet being put away. "Slowly and let me see your hands."

Lawson swallowed and his eyes darted down to Don, looking at him questioningly. Don nodded gently at him and watched the boy slowly step out of the restroom and into the main room of the basement. As he moved, the boy's eyes darted to Keane and Frazer, paling dramatically as he realized the latter was dead and saw the knife sticking out of the former.

"It's okay, Greg," Don said gently as Coop checked him for weapons before cuffing his hands in front of him with the handcuffs that he'd removed from Don earlier. "You're safe and your sister will be fine. This is Special Agent Billy Cooper."

"Cooper?" Lawson echoed, eyes wide. "The one Frazer wanted?"

"Frazer wanted me?" Coop inquired.

"Yeah, he finally decided you were involved and responsible too," Don explained wearily. "He was coming after you next."

"Really?"

"It was his second favorite topic," Lawson said, voice trembling. "Right after..."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Billy responded, following the boy's eyes to Don. "Goddamn bastard. Should'a shot him the first time 'round. Would have saved us a lot of trouble and pain."

"No. Keane would have found someone else," Don declared. "Someone not connected to you. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Got called in to consult on Frazer's case as soon as I'd caught the fugitive I was hunting. They had no leads and wanted to know how we'd caught him," Billy said, gently pushing Lawson towards the desk chair where he could keep an eye on him until backup arrived. "The moment I saw the file, I realized the order to alert you was missing."

"Yeah, Keane had it removed."

The sudden narrowing of Coop's eyes at Lawson's full body flinch told Don his partner had figured out exactly who had removed that alert. He silently begged him not to do anything rash and though he could tell Billy was fairly vibrating with the need to _do_ something, to hurt someone, he restrained it, returning to his side instead.

"As soon as I heard that you'd vanished without a trace, I knew, just knew, Frazer was involved."

"So you came to LA."

"Couldn't stop me, not that Jennings tried to. He remembered Darien Frazer and his threats only all too well. Wait, Keane would have found someone else? This wasn't Frazer's thing?"

"No, but Keane wanted people to think so," Don explained, fading. "I'm not a target, just a pawn. Charlie..."

"What?" Billy exclaimed. "What about your brother?"

"He, Keane, they," Lawson began. "They wanted Dr. Eppes to hack something- NSA security, for them."

"Wh- the NSA?"

"Y... yes."

"Information," Don said. "Keane works for some guy... Blakely, who was stealing it for... client."

"Shit. Has anything been compromised?" Billy demanded, phone already in hand.

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yes. Charlie... Charlie's not done."

"Your brother _knew_? About what happened to you?"

"Yeah."

"And he didn't tell anyone?"

"Banner-" Lawson's voice hitched. "He told Dr. Eppes they'd k- kill his brother if he did."

"Shit."

"Yeah... basically," Don agreed. "They took... photos."

"They gave the Math Whiz photos of you? Like this?" Billy demanded, incredulous. "Jesus."

"Yes," Lawson confirmed, bringing up the surveillance footage on the monitors.

Don listened absently as Coop questioned Lawson some more, most of his attention on the various miniature Charlies scribbling away at his blackboards, desperately seeking to achieve the impossible. The relief that his little brother wouldn't have to feel like he'd gotten him killed was enormous. He couldn't have put it into words if he'd tried and Don allowed himself to simply enjoy it.

Impossibly, things seemed to have worked out in his favor after all, if not quite how he'd wanted or predicted it to. Both his father and brother were safe, untouched by either Keane or Frazer, and the precious information wasn't out in the open. His pain and suffering were a small price to pay for all of that and he'd go through it again to ensure this outcome, especially if it meant his family was unharmed.

**

* * *

**

**Originally, I'd really wanted Don to rescue himself in this fic, but then Frazer took on a life of his own and became far more sociopathic than I'd intended. As a result, Don was injured far more grievously and it quickly became clear to me that he'd be in no condition to get himself out of the basement. At least not believably. Enter Billy. He seemed to fit in so logically after Frazer surprised me by making the original souvenir comment to Don, so I went with it. Don did do a lot and got much further than almost any other agent would, but he did need a little help from his old partner.  
I'd like to thank ALEO for all of her help regarding proper procedure for both this and the next chapter(s). Any remaining mistakes are my own.  
So, this chapter ends Part V, the longest part of this fic, clocking in at 8 chapters. Part VI will be the last chapter and will be told from Billy's pov. At this point, I expect it to be 4 chapters long, but that may still change. That part will be _Hospital_, though it starts in the basement right where this chapter left off.**


	24. Part VI: Chapter 24

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  


* * *

**

_Note_: The first chapter of the last Part of this fic. The delay in posting this chapter is due to a number of reasons and I'm sorry for it. You'll be happy to know, though, that I wrote a ton on the plane ride back home and will be sending the next chapter off to my betas tonight.

**

* * *

**

_**Part VI: Billy: **Hospital_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 24:**_

**Thursday, 18:01  
Basement, 372 Kinnard Avenue**

It seemed like an eternity to Billy before his cell rang and he answered it to hear the voice of the 911 operator he'd spoken to earlier. An eternity during which he could merely sit beside his former partner and keep an eye on the boy Don said had been coerced into the whole thing by a threat to his sister. He hardly dared touch Don for fear of hurting him. The younger man was covered in blood from head to foot, although he suspected, and hoped, the blood on his suit pants was from his torso and not from additional, and as of yet undiscovered, wounds.

Despite the first aid courses he'd been forced to take over the years with Fugitive Recovery, Billy knew he was hopelessly out of his league. He'd seen countless corpses which looked better than Don and he was worried about doing more harm than good if he tried anything. The majority of the wounds seemed to be closed and covered in dried blood. The ones that had been reopened in whatever had happened just before he'd entered the basement, were already clotting or merely bleeding sluggishly and he was afraid of making things worse by touching them. Besides, he didn't think it was worth the pain it would cause his friend and he was afraid of sending him into shock. He'd heard enough of the conversation between Don and Frazer when he'd entered to know exactly what his partner had intended.

The fact that he'd nearly goaded Frazer into killing him seconds before help had arrived was going to hit Don at some point and Billy didn't want to aggravate that mental bombshell with yet more pain. Not to mention that he didn't have a clue as to the extent of Don's internal injuries and was afraid of making things worse inadvertently. So, instead, he'd remained protectively at his partner's side, letting the other man clasp his hand. If that helped Don fight off the pain and remain more or less conscious until the paramedics arrived, then he was happy to oblige even if remaining still clashed with the need that coiled in his gut to get up and pace; to _do_ something to someone- preferably something painful and preferably to Keane. He wished desperately that Frazer wasn't dead, that the man was still alive so he could kill him again, slowly and painfully. He wanted to give the fugitive a dose of his own medicine and see what he thought of being cut a thousand times with a knife, to feel the blade dragged across his skin.

That, however, wasn't possible and Billy tried to push the thoughts aside. He'd had no choice and didn't regret his actions for an instant. His split-second assessment of the situation had called for immediate and lethal force, forgoing even the usual warning that was normally required before firing on a suspect or fugitive. The immediate and clear threat to another agent's life had overridden that and he'd fired a double tap at center mass, killing Frazer almost instantly. It had been made necessary by the fact that the other man's finger had already been on the trigger. Despite all of that, Frazer's quick death grated and he wanted to do something, to make someone pay for what had been done to Don.

It was tempting to walk over to Keane's prone form and exact some manner of revenge on the man who was apparently responsible for Frazer's escape and presence here, but he knew he couldn't. The last thing Billy wanted was for Keane to get off on some technicality. Not on his watch and not after what Keane had done. Besides, it seemed like Don had already gotten the man good. He felt a swell of pride for the younger man and what he'd managed to achieve despite the odds stacked against him. Eppes had given them hell and had nearly managed to overcome two armed opponents despite his condition.

"Special Agent Cooper?" the calm voice inquired when he answered the call.

"Yes," Billy said. "That the ambulances I hear?"

"Along with several units of LAPD. Can you come out and meet the officers?"

"No can do. As I said before, I have an agent down and a wounded high-risk offender. In addition, I now also have a civilian present as well."

"Has the building been cleared?"

"I've done a preliminary sweep and found only a body in an upstairs room. We're in the basement, the door to which is in the kitchen."

"Officers coming in now, to be followed by paramedics."

"Copy," Billy replied, biting down the urge to demand that the EMTs were sent in right away as he closed his cell. "You still with me, Donny? EMTs are on their way."

"Yeah... is good."

"So who was the poor guy upstairs anyway?"

"Special Agent... Jeremy Banner."

Billy swore loudly. "One of yours?"

"No... traitor."

"Traitor? Wait, NSA?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, so how'd he end up eviscerated?"

"Eviscerated?" Lawson squeaked, losing what little color he had left.

"Uh..."

Before Billy could try to backpedal, the boy was up and darting awkwardly for the restroom. Since the door to the room was open and he could see the entirety of the small space, he let him go, deciding not to leave Don who'd taken on an ashen pallor as well.

"Frazer gutted him?" Don demanded, hoarsely.

"Basically," Billy said, suddenly realizing what Don was thinking.

Billy felt his own stomach drop at the thought. Was that what Frazer had been planning for Don?

"Okay, if he was a traitor, then why'd Frazer kill him? Had he outlived his purpose?"

"Not yet."

"So?"

"So someone... may have... made him realize... his ultimate fate."

"Yeah?" Billy questioned, a smile spreading across his face. "You stir up some trouble for Keane? Despite being restrained down here? Remind me never to underestimate you."

"Didn't... work."

"Hey, you took one of them out of the equation, that's nothing to sneeze at, whether it went how you wanted it to or not."

"Agent Cooper?"

The voice distracted Billy and he looked back towards the door through which he'd entered. "Yeah, down here."

Two uniformed LAPD officers soon appeared in the doorway and Billy indicated the restroom so that Lawson didn't inadvertently startle them. He could instantly tell the second cop was a rookie by the way he paled and looked like he might follow Lawson's example as he looked around the room. He couldn't blame the guy too much, though, as the basement looked like something out of a nightmare with the area of bloodstains on the concrete floor, the corpse and two seriously wounded men, one of whom had clearly been tortured. The stench of fear and blood added a repugnant smell to the scene while the heavy, bloodstained and splintered chair lying on its side against the far wall left little of what had happened to the imagination.

The senior and more experienced officer approached them, though he too cursed when he got a good look at Don.

"You that missing FBI supervisor the Bureau's been trying to find? Agent Eppes?"

"Yeah," Don confirmed.

"Didn't think you'd be found alive, not after the first few days."

"Wasn't supposed to... happen that way."

"Good thing things didn't go according to their plan then. That guy over there alive?"

"Yeah," Billy confirmed. "Been out since I got here."

"Really?" the cop, Stevens according to his uniform, threw Don a look of admiration. "We'll keep an eye on him while you get Agent Eppes settled with the paramedics. They'll be down in a moment."

"Cop..." Don began, then swallowed and tried again. "Cop killer... Keane."

"What? That one?"

Don nodded and Billy leaned over him, worried.

"One of ours?" Stevens' voice was hard, urgent.

"No... Detroit."

"City doesn't really matter, not with this; nor does the affiliation. Cops, agents, we're all on the same side."

Billy threw the man a grateful smile but then turned his attention straight to the man and woman in paramedic's outfits that rushed down the stairs.

"Over here, this one first," Billy ordered, moving out of the way.

Because he was watching them so closely, Billy saw the way both of the EMTs blanched when they caught sight of Don and the extent of his injuries. At first it puzzled him, as he was sure that they must have seen far more gruesome wounds than what Don was currently sporting. Then it hit him. It wasn't the extent of Don's injuries that was affecting them, but rather the cause, or the nature, of them. Yes, paramedics were used to seeing serious and horrific injuries, but normally they were the result of unintentional causes- accidents, fires, natural disasters- or deliberate ones- murder, suicide, rape, beatings. What they were seeing now, however, was torture, pure and simple. _That_ was something he'd bet they were a lot less used to seeing, especially to this extent.

As he watched them set up next to Don and start examining him, Billy wondered what they'd think if they realized that their patient hadn't been tortured for information or to get him to do something, but rather for the pleasure of hurting him.

"Agent Cooper, what about this one?"

Billy looked over to find that the rookie cop had managed to refrain from puking his guts out and was now instead holding onto Lawson's arm. The boy looked better though he was still pale and shaky and obviously the cause of some concern for one of the other two EMTs who'd arrived. The man was standing by, clearly wanting to have a look at Lawson, but waiting until he was cleared to do so.

"He's an NSA cryptologist who was probably coerced into whatever the hell was going on here."

That was apparently enough for the paramedic as the man instantly approached Lawson and started looking over him, paying particular attention to his wrists and the bloodstained handcuffs.

"The blood's not mine," Lawson stated, looking towards Don. "It's from when they were used on Agent Eppes."

Just as he returned his attention towards his former partner, Billy caught the dirty look the paramedic sent him. The man had obviously deduced that he was the one who'd transferred those cuffs from Don to Lawson. He dismissed the man, knowing that it was easy for the EMT to criticize his actions when he hadn't been there. He'd been caught in a bad situation with an agent down, a wounded but still alive high-risk offender and a potential civilian victim though he couldn't be sure of the boy's loyalties and only had Don's take on them. Though he trusted his former partner implicitly, he didn't know the extent of Don's interactions with Lawson nor all of the details of what had been done to Don.

After nearly a week of captivity, the possibility of something like Stockholm Syndrome setting in was very real, especially if Lawson had been the one to provide Don with food or comfort. Compared to Frazer and his knife, almost any kindness would have been enough to throw the donor of said kindness into sharp contrast. Billy didn't think it likely given what he knew of Don's character and his sheer stubbornness and resourcefulness, but it was a possibility and he simply couldn't take the risk. Not with everything that had been at stake, including Don himself.

When another two paramedics entered the basement with a stretcher, followed by two cops carrying another stretcher, Billy knew that more than two ambulances had been sent. A strangled shout from Don instantly had Billy at his side.

"Sorry," the female EMT said. "He's definitely got some broken as well as cracked ribs."

"Hey, Donny, you still with us?" Billy asked, softly touching his former partner's pale face.

He didn't like the way he'd clenched his eyes shut nor the sweat now on his brow. The attack on Keane and Frazer had clearly taken a lot out of him and it was finally starting to hit Don. That and Billy assumed the knowledge that he was now safe was probably sapping his remaining strength as the adrenaline finally left his system. In response to his question, Don opened his eyes and looked at him.

"Wanna sleep."

The plaintiff quality of Don's voice hit Billy like a physical blow and he had to swallow before he could reply. "Soon, Donny, soon, but first we need to get you to the hospital so the doctors can have a look at you."

"Tired."

"I know, but you need to stay awake until you get to the hospital, okay?"

"'kay."

"There we go, that's better."

"Okay, Agent Eppes, I need you to follow my finger with just your eyes, don't move your head," the female EMT instructed and frowned at his reactions. "Did you take a blow to the head recently?"

"Yes... but also... drugs."

"You were drugged?"

"Yeah."

Billy swore, clenching his fists as the urge to walk over to Keane and hurt him rose within him once more. "Do you know what they used on you?"

"No. In... cabinet."

"I've got it," one of the officers who'd brought the second stretcher in said.

Grateful, Billy watched long enough to ensure that the man pulled on gloves prior to touching anything before he turned his attention back to Don and the paramedic attending him. While waiting for the officer to retrieve the drugs, she continued her exam, her partner scribbling down notes.

"Okay, we've got two sets of bottles in the cabinet," the officer reported, holding two evidence bags. "Neither are marked or labeled in any way. The first is clear while the second is amber in color."

"Were both used on you?" she asked.

"Yes. Clear is sedative... tranq."

"Do you know why they used it?"

"To control him," Billy stated when Don looked at him. "To make him pliable."

"And the other?"

"Pain... pain enhancement," Don said, his voice unsteady as a tremor traveled the length of his body.

This time Billy was unable to remain crouched on the floor. Instead he shot to his feet and took several steps towards Keane before jerking himself around and taking a few steps in the opposite direction. His jaw was clenched so hard it ached and he longed to smash his fist into something but resisted the impulse. The rage was so great he was, for once, speechless. The soft exclamations he heard around him indicated that he wasn't the only one enraged and horrified by this latest revelation.

By the time he'd gotten his emotions under enough control to face Don once more, Billy turned to find the other agent being lowered gently onto the stretcher. The expression on his face indicated how painful the maneuver was, but he managed to choke down any cries of pain that tried to escape. A quick glance about proved that Lawson had been escorted out of the room and that Stevens was standing near Keane as two more paramedics worked to get him ready for transport. Most of the other officers had cleared out to keep from contaminating the scene, so Billy decided it was all right for him to follow Don out of the basement.

He'd really like to accompany Don in the ambulance to the hospital, but as the first one on the scene and the only FBI agent present, Billy knew he should remain and supervise the evidence collection. He mentally cursed procedure as he checked his watch, stunned to find that only a little time had passed since he'd called Sinclair. It was unlikely that he or anyone else from Don's team would arrive any time soon, especially if they had to send someone to inform Don's family of his rescue.

When they stepped outside, Billy found that the once deceptively calm and peaceful neighborhood had been transformed into a veritable zoo of activity. Emergency vehicles of several different types stood parked haphazardly on the driveway, lawn and street, several of them still flashing their lights though, thankfully, not their sirens. The first row consisted of his own car and the police cruisers followed by the ambulances and the mandatory fire engine.

The cops standing about instantly made way for the paramedics and the gurney upon which the stretcher had been placed. Their expressions took on a hard, furious edge as they caught sight of Don and his injuries. Billy himself had to admit that, as bad as it had appeared in the basement, the injuries looked far worse out here. The sunlight threw the contrast between the paleness of what little skin was visible with the blood and bruises into sharp relief.

Billy looked up once more just in time to see an unmarked black Suburban with lights pull up to the outer edge of the initial response vehicles. Hopeful that Sinclair might not have been at the office when he called, he altered course and headed towards the Suburban. As he approached, he saw that neither of the two men who stepped out of the car were familiar even though their suits immediately identified them as fellow agents.

"Special Agent Billy Cooper," Billy introduced himself. "You two with Don Eppes' team?"

"Not his immediate one, no. I'm Henry Gray and this is Nathan Richards, we are part of the Violent Crimes Squad though. How is Agent Eppes?"

"Not so good. He's been tortured extensively but they're loading him into an ambulance now."

"What can we do to help?"

"I've called Sinclair and he's on his way, but I'd like to accompany Don to the hospital."

"We can take over the scene until Sinclair arrives. What do we have?"

A quick synopsis of what he was knew was all Billy was able to relay to them before any further discussion was cut short by a sharp, desperate cry of pain and fear that he instantly identified as Don's.

**

* * *

**

**What? Did you really expect me not to have another few cliff-hangers for you just because Don's now been rescued? If so, you don't know me very well.  
Don't ask me where Banner's ultimate fate came from, I'm not entirely sure. Nor do I really want to inspect it too closely, to be honest. It seems like Frazer's still alive and kicking in my head. While it is true that I knew Banner's death wouldn't be pretty, the evisceration thing blindsided me a little. It just popped out while writing this chapter.  
As with the last chapter, I'd like to thank ALEO once more for her help with proper police procedure. I took that and used a little (though I hope not too much) creative license for this chapter.  
Finally, just a quick note for those of you who've seen _Hangman_: I totally pictured Don's scar as being smaller than we have now seen it to be. Hence the reason that Frazer didn't notice it right away and why I thought it might match the size of a knife hilt more. My bad. I guess I forgot to take the surgery into account, that would have made it bigger. Well, either that or Radovic pulled upwards once he'd stabbed Don.**


	25. Part VI: Chapter 25

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  
**

* * *

_Note_: I'd like to extend a big thank you to my two betas for getting this back to me so quickly!

**

* * *

**

_**Part VI: Billy: **Hospital_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 25:**_

**Thursday, 18:35  
Front Lawn, 372 Kinnard Avenue**

Before he'd even fully realized it, Billy was already racing towards his partner's side. Well, former partner, but it was amazing how easily he forgot that whenever he was with Don again. It had been exactly the same when he'd come out to LA to help the younger man track down and capture Williams and McDowd. They'd fallen right back into their old patterns as if the intervening decade had never happened. Okay, almost as if the intervening decade had never happened.

Surprisingly, Don was exactly where Billy would have expected to find him if he'd never heard the cry; on the folded gurney in the back of the ambulance. Only now, instead of lying calmly on the padded surface, Don was twisting about on it, struggling to break free from the grip of the two paramedics who were attempting to hold him down without injuring him any further. They were both talking to him, trying to get him to calm down, but it wasn't working. Either Don was ignoring them or he just wasn't hearing them, entirely caught up in some sort of flashback or trance.

"Donny," Billy called out as he leapt into the back of the ambulance.

There wasn't much room between the gurney and the two paramedics, but Billy managed to squeeze past the woman. He gently but firmly gripped Don's chin and forced him to look in his direction.

"Eppes, snap out of it!"

It took a few moments, but those brown eyes finally focused on him and tense muscles relaxed as Don gradually calmed down.

"Billy?"

"Yeah, I'm right here, you're safe. What the hell happened?"

"I... I don't know."

The cursing of the female paramedic made Billy look at her and he saw her dabbing with some cotton at a fresh trail of blood in the crook of Don's elbow. Realization came to him suddenly and he resisted the urge to close his eyes at the knowledge. There were more important things to take care of now, he could worry about what it all meant later, when Don was in a hospital doped up on long overdue pain medication.

"Did you try to stick him with a needle?" Billy inquired.

"Yes, he's dehydrated and suffering from severe blood loss and therefore in serious need of more fluids," the female paramedic replied.

"Shit," Don cursed, screwing his eyes shut and clenching his fists.

Billy squeezed his good hand slightly in comfort, though he knew it was little use given the circumstances. "He's just been tortured with a knife and you didn't think to warn him before sticking him with a needle? Is there another way to administer the fluids? Couldn't he drink something?"

"Not in the quantities he needs and administering intravenously gets it directly into his blood system."

"It's not... the knife," Don said.

"Huh?" Billy questioned.

"Reaction was not... due to knife... but drugs. Frazer... gave with needles."

The meaning of Don's words sunk in slowly, but Billy's jaw clenched when they did. He'd been so focused on Don's visible wounds and the effects of the two drugs used on him, that he hadn't given much thought to exactly _how_ the drugs had been administered. The desire to kill Frazer slowly and painfully rose within him again and he struggled to shove it aside in order to focus on what was going on around him.

"He really needs the fluids," the paramedic declared.

"Do it," Don stated.

"You sure, Donny?" Billy inquired.

"Yeah... gotta get over... it."

"Not all at once, you don't. And not today."

"Do it."

"You heard the man," Billy said, turning back to the paramedic.

Much as he hated to watch, Billy found himself unable to look away as the paramedic complied after a moment's hesitation. Even prepared for it, Don was unable to prevent the instinctive reaction to recoil when the needle pierced his skin, though this time he didn't fight when the second paramedic held his arm down so he didn't hurt himself any further. Still, despite that, Don's breathing had accelerated noticeably and he was clearly fighting for control against either another flashback or some, by now, instinctive reaction.

"Can you come with us?" the female paramedic inquired. "He seems to respond well to you and it will help if you're here to keep him calm and focused."

"Yeah, if you can wait a minute."

"If you're quick, we can wait."

"I'll be right back," Billy promised, getting back out of the ambulance.

Gray and Richards must have followed him when he'd reacted to Don's cry as they were standing right next to the bus.

"Go," Gray stated without preamble. "He clearly needs you. We'll hold the fort until Sinclair and the crime scene technicians arrive."

Clearly the two of them had seen enough of what had transpired in the ambulance to get the gist of what was going on. The anger and horror on their faces proved that, as did the anger in every line of their body. Someone had messed with one of their own and badly.

"Thanks. Find Officer Stevens, he was the first one in the basement and the one who promised to keep an eye on Keane. His partner is the one who escorted Lawson out of the room and should be keeping an eye on him."

"We've got it, you just take care of Eppes."

Billy didn't need any more incentive than that and climbed back into the ambulance. The second paramedic closed the doors behind him before moving to the front to drive. Seating himself towards the head of the gurney, Billy made sure to stay out of the way of the other EMT as she worked on Don's injuries. He kept an eye on everything she did even as he spoke with Don, doing his best to keep his friend awake and focused. The more he saw of the injuries, though, the harder it became to keep up a litany of soothing nonsense as his rage grew within him. Luckily no serious new wounds were revealed when his pants were cut away to allow for better access to his ankles and to check him for hidden injuries.

The drive to the hospital seemed to take forever and Billy was relieved when the ambulance finally stopped and the back doors were torn open. He tried to remain with the gurney without getting in the way but was eventually stopped by a nurse as his former partner was whisked into the ER. Now it had become a waiting game and he hated those.

**

* * *

**

**Thursday, 20:11  
ER Waiting Room, UCLA Medical Center**

When Alan and Charlie Eppes finally arrived followed closely by someone who appeared to be an agent, Billy nearly sighed in relief. Despite the explosion he knew would most likely take place when Don's father learned about what had happened, and who it was that had tortured Don so badly, it would be better than simply sitting in one of the waiting room chairs. He'd started out pacing the length of the room, but had been asked to stop by one of the nurses who'd noticed he was making the other people nervous.

Billy snorted at the thought. It had probably been a combination of his gun and the blood on his clothes that had scared the other people, but he hadn't wanted to start an argument, so he'd obediently stopped pacing. Don would be so proud of his restraint. He'd made sure to clip his badge to his belt, though, to ensure that no one panicked or made any sort of disturbance that could cause him to be detained when someone came out with more news of Don.

"Mr. Eppes, Charlie," Billy greeted, rising to his feet.

"How is Don?" Charlie demanded, eyes growing wide as he caught sight of the blood stains. "Is that his? Will he be alright? How bad is it? Was he conscious?"

"Don's gonna be fine."

"How do you know that?" Alan questioned. "Have you spoken to one of the doctors already?"

"Yes, someone came out to speak with me about forty minutes ago."

"Yeah, we got caught in traffic," the blond man said. "I'm Special Agent Colby Granger."

"Ah, yes, Don's mentioned you," Billy said.

"What did they say?" Alan demanded, impatiently. "Do I need to speak with anyone and sign anything or approve a procedure?"

"No, that's okay, I've already taken care of it."

"You did?" Charlie inquired.

"Yes, apparently Donny never removed me from his emergency contacts. I still even have medical power of attorney for extreme cases."

"Why is he not yet in a room if he's going to be fine?"

"How much do you know about his injuries?" Billy asked. "Don mentioned something about them sending photos to you."

"Yeah, I got a few."

"We believe there may have been a discrepancy between when they were taken and when Charlie got them," Colby stated. "The last one showed Don's face and arms covered in dried blood, significant bruising around his left eye, and injuries to the fingers of his left hand. Previous photos had also shown some bruising to his chest and burn wounds to his face and chest. He was wearing a new shirt in the final photo, though, so we couldn't see if he had any new injuries to his chest."

"Most of that sounds accurate. There was an additional wound to his arm, which probably happened just before I arrived. The only reason I can think of that they made Don put on the shirt was to hide the bruising on his torso. It appears that he was hit repeatedly on the right side of his chest and he suffered several broken and fractured ribs."

Alan sucked in a sharp breath and Charlie paled alarmingly. Even Colby seemed worried at this, so Billy rushed to continue.

"None of them caused any significant internal damage, though they will be painful enough in and of themselves."

"His lungs are fine?" Alan pressed. "They weren't punctured?"

"No. The final injury was some bruising to his kidneys. Again, painful but not really life threatening. He's also got a moderate concussion, hence the reason they wanted to check with someone else before continuing treatment."

"So what's taking them so long?"

"Mr. Eppes, if you did see a photo of Don, then you know what Frazer did with his knife. In order to prevent infection, they need to ensure that each and every cut is thoroughly cleaned."

"And?" Charlie pushed. "Does it take that long?"

"It does when they need to wait before administering an anesthetic. Apparently Keane drugged Don to make him compliant and the doctors don't want to give him anything else until they know exactly what's already in his system. One of the responding officers gave the paramedics samples which have been rushed to testing."

"So they really did drug Donny?" Alan questioned, paling even further.

"What was this other wound you mentioned?" Charlie asked.

"Huh?" Billy replied evasively.

"You said he had another wound to his arm."

Billy sighed in resignation, secretly glad that only Granger seemed to have caught his little 'samples' slipup. He knew Don wouldn't want his father and brother to know about the pain enhancer if at all possible. Luckily the junior agent seemed to know that as well and was willing to remain silent on the matter for now despite the fact that he seemed to want to know the answer to his question right now.

"Yeah, it's a gash caused by a bullet."

"A gash caused by a-" Alan began, voice high and strangled. "They shot him? They shot Donny? I thought they wanted him alive until Charlie could crack the code!"

"It's just a graze, Mr. Eppes," Billy explained, remembering the way his own heart had lurched when the EMT had identified the most likely cause of the wound and Don had confirmed it.

At the end of the day, a GSW was still a GSW, graze or not. It could easily have been a lot worse, especially if Keane had been willing to kill his captive outright.

"But, why?" Charlie inquired, lost. "What if I'd demanded proof that he was still alive?"

"It wasn't their plan to shoot Don. Donny forced their hand, though, by fighting back. Keane may even have been acting out of instinct. See, somehow your brother managed to seriously injure him with a knife and knock him out."

As he continued to answer the questions Don's family threw at him, Billy noted that Granger had pulled out a notebook and was taking notes. No doubt he'd have to repeat most of what he was saying now later on, but this way Granger could report back to Sinclair with a preliminary report. Inevitably, the conversation came around to the topic he'd been dreading since he'd realized that he'd see the elder Eppes.

"What about Frazer?" Alan asked. "Where is he now? Did you manage to capture him or is he still on the loose?"

"No, Frazer's dead."

"Dead?"

"Yeah, I was forced to shoot him. You needn't worry, he won't hurt Don ever again."

A half laugh from Charlie had Billy wondering about how he was coping with the situation, Don had said he didn't take their mother's illness and death well at all.

"Didn't this whole mess start with the shooting of a Frazer brother?" Charlie stated.

"In some ways, yes."

"What does that mean?" Granger inquired.

"Don said that Keane would have chosen someone else if Frazer had been unavailable to him," Billy explained. "So while Darien Frazer's hatred for Don started when Don was forced to kill George Frazer, Keane could easily have chosen someone else who disliked Don."

"Why would he do that?"

"I don't know, there wasn't a lot of time."

"How come it took you so longer to find Frazer? He's been out of jail for over two weeks now!" Alan accused. "Isn't tracking fugitives what you do for a living? Why did it take you so damn long?"

"I wasn't involved in the hunt at the start, I was busy elsewhere. I came to LA as soon as I heard he was out and that Donny was missing. Tracking Frazer wasn't easy as his movements were unusual for a fugitive, to say the least, but I used everything I remembered about him and his habits and got there as quickly as I could."

"And considering that he beat the rest of us, that was pretty good," Granger said, stepping in.

"You speak as if you recall all of the specifics about this man Frazer and the original hunt for him and his brother."

"That's because I do. Darien and George Frazer were one of the first cases that Don and I worked together. What your son did during the confrontation with them was a critical turning point in our relationship. See, that's when I knew, really knew, that he had my back," Billy stated.

"You didn't trust him before?" Alan demanded harshly.

"Mr. Eppes, you have to understand, Fugitive Recovery is tough, it's one of the toughest assignments within the Bureau. A lot of agents don't make it there, they just aren't cut out for it. So, yeah, I was more than a little wary at getting assigned a partner all but fresh out of the Academy who'd been a damn _baseball_ player before joining the FBI."

"Donny's good at what he does."

"No, he's damn good at it. Best damn partner I ever had, and I've had a lot, believe you me."

"I hate to interrupt, Alan," Granger broke in, "but I'm going to have to take Agent Cooper's statement and I think it would be better if I do so sooner rather than later. I just got a text from David saying they've got someone at the scene whom they're not sure is a suspect or a victim."

"How can they not know- No, never mind, I'm not sure I want to know," Alan stated. "Just tell me one thing, Cooper."

"Yes?"

"How badly was Donny bleeding for you to get all of that blood on your clothes?"

**

* * *

**

**Yep, Don's now got _issues_ with knives and needles. But really, can you blame him? And no, they're not going to magically disappear in a cloud of convenience. They will be things that will haunt Don and will need to be worked through properly. He just doesn't quite realize that yet...  
The next chapter will reveal a little more about Blakely and will see Don pulling a macho stunt to try and overcome his new knife phobia.  
After that there will be either one or two more chapters, I'm not entirely sure yet at this point.**


	26. Part VI: Chapter 26

_**In a Mirror, Darkly**_

_**by Valerie Vancollie**_

**valeriev84 at hotmail dot com  
**

* * *

_Note_: Okay, so it's been decided, there will be 2 more chapters to this fic after this one. I'm not yet sure if 28 will be a full length chapter, but I'll do my best to make it so.

**

* * *

**

_**Part VI: Billy: **Hospital_

**

* * *

**

_**Chapter 26:**_

**Saturday, 14:16  
Hospital Room, UCLA Medical Center**

"Wow, I can't believe there's no one in here with you," Billy said as he entered Don's room to find his former partner lying partially reclined on the bed, watching TV.

"Yeah, I managed to convince Dad that I'd be okay if he popped down to the cafeteria for a late lunch."

"What about your girlfriend and brother? They were starting to look like permanent fixtures here too."

"Dad convinced Charlie to go home and shower while Robin had an important meeting downtown that she really couldn't afford to put off."

"On a Saturday?"

"It's about warrants for some ATF case."

"Ah, I see."

Billy dropped himself into the chair that had been pulled up to the side of the bed and used the opportunity to study the other man. The doctors had been forced to go in and surgically correct the position of some of the bones in Don's left hand as they'd already started to heal crookedly and most of his hand was now encased in a pristine white cast to hold the pins and bones in place, only one finger escaping the plaster confinement. He made a mental note to find a permanent marker so he could scribble on it, preferably when Don was asleep and unable to protest or veto any of his ideas. The doctors had also set his ribs. Fortunately, since the breaks were newer, that hadn't required any additional surgery. The nurses had given Don a pillow which he could clutch to his chest to ease the pain should he need to cough.

All of Don's cuts had been meticulously reopened and cleaned to ensure that all of the dirt and foreign blood was removed from the wounds before they'd been bandaged. The overall effect made him look somewhat like a mummy, or zombie, even without the bandages around his wrists and ankles where the various restraints used on Don had left their marks, though hopefully not permanently.

Although Billy was glad that Don's family and girlfriend hadn't seen him before he'd been treated, he almost found this worse. To see so much of his friend swathed in bandages really drove the situation home in a way the blood hadn't. That made absolutely no sense, but he figured it might have something to do with the fact that back in the basement he'd been so focused on Lawson, Keane and keeping Don awake that he hadn't been able to dwell on things as much as he could now. Not to mention the fact that he now knew much more of what had been going on and why. Lawson's description of the torture and Frazer's threats and intentions still made him sick to his stomach. Not that he found Keane's own brand of psychological torture any better, not on top of everything else.

The worst things by far, though, were the knowledge that Keane would have given Frazer free rein to kill Don however he so wished, the fact that Don had been aware of this and had had plenty of time to ponder it, and the fact that Frazer had used him against Don. The latter, though not nearly as bad as the first three, jarred with Billy as he knew how it would have affected his friend. The souvenir thing in particular had nearly made him lose his lunch and he was glad that was one of several details everyone seemed perfectly happy keeping from Don's family.

"So, the Bureau's finally informed the NSA of what happened," Billy stated.

"Oh, I imagine that didn't go down very well."

"No, it didn't, especially when Wright told them he'd held off on informing them about the situation out of fear that there could have been more traitors involved."

"Not like it wasn't a very real possibility, or that Banner or Lawson might have heard about it via their contacts and connections."

"Yeah, well, they kicked up some fuss about us risking the security of the intel and so creating a larger threat to national security."

"Oh, please. There was never any possibility of the information getting out into the open, not once Charlie told the Bureau what was going on. Without him, they didn't stand a chance of getting at it, which is exactly how I got involved in this mess in the first place."

"That's what Wright told them, but you know the NSA."

"If they're so worried, they should step up their own security. None of this would ever have been possible without Keane and Blakely getting to two of their people," Don said. "But speaking of the intel, what the hell was this client after anyway?"

"They won't tell us."

"What?"

"The NSA point blank refuses to tell us anything about what they were after. Said it would compromise-"

"No, let me guess, national security."

"Yep. Even your brother couldn't get any answers out of them."

"They're not mad at Charlie, are they? For working on the problem?"

"They're not happy with him and one of the agents made some vague threats of repercussions, but his partner backtracked that quickly once they realized exactly who had given him his NSA clearance."

"Good."

"You never told me your brother was so well connected."

"That's 'cause I didn't know until about five years ago myself when we worked a case with the CDC and needed someone with high clearance fast."

"That when you had those cases of Spanish Flu here?" Billy asked and continued indignantly when Don raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What? I watch the news, occasionally."

"Uh huh."

"Okay, so I only heard about it after it was over, but it caught my attention. Anything over here does."

And it was true, any time LA was mentioned on the news, it caught his attention, just like a mention of Albuquerque used to do the same. Billy figured it was one advantage of having friends outside of Fugitive Recovery, he could know things about where they were.

"What about Blakely?" Don inquired. "Do we have any more on him?"

"Some, but not a whole lot. Keane has remained tight lipped about him and their organization despite being offered various different deals, some of them far better than he deserves given what he's done."

"You know how the system operates, if they can use him to bring down someone bigger..."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it and don't even try and pretend you'd be okay with it if he'd accepted."

"Oh, I wasn't going to. Keane deserves the full force of the law, not only for what he did here, but for Detroit and anywhere else he's done this before."

"From what little we do know, Blakely seems to be a big international trafficker in information and weapons. He's been on the watch list of the NSA, CIA, ATF, CBP, ICE and even the FBI for a while now. With us he's not considered as high of a priority as he mainly deals with overseas matters, but he has cropped up on our radar a few times. The biggest problem is that not much is known about him. We only have a vague description of him and indirect evidence of his involvement in various jobs. The man is a ghost."

"And if Keane was right about him being able to choose his people so well, then most are unlikely to turn on him."

"Plus he's made a few good examples of those that have in the past."

"Yeah, well, not like we don't already know what he's capable of. If what he allowed Frazer to do just to cover his tracks is any indication, then I don't really want to know what he does to those who betrayed him. So, I take it this means we don't have enough to find Blakely."

"No. Wright wants Charlie to have a look at some of the data they have, but Sinclair and Granger seem to think that he won't have enough to work with."

"Our single biggest problem when it comes to Charlie helping us."

They lapsed into silence while Don pondered this new information. Soon enough it transformed into a more comfortable one like those they'd often had while on the road when they'd run out of things to say and weren't in the mood for their usual antics. Billy took the time to just study his friend, hoping it would help keep the nightmares at bay tonight. All he'd been able to see the past two nights had been that wretched basement. In his imagination, he'd sometimes arrived too late, only to find Don gutted like Banner; sometimes he'd arrived just in time to watch Frazer pull the trigger, unable to do anything to prevent it; and sometimes he'd arrived to find Don bleeding out, only to die in his arms before help arrived. It had been an endless loop, a parade of visions so lifelike he'd only known they were fake when he woke. Consciousness had provided precious little relief, though, as he kept seeing Don's reaction when he'd pulled out his knife or to being stuck with a needle. The involuntary actions had been so telling of the damage Frazer had wrought that couldn't be seen.

Though he didn't like to think about it too much, Billy found himself coming back to that issue over and over again. He of all people knew what it meant to Don to be an agent and what it would do to him if he lost that. He'd heard that his former partner had been seeing a therapist and hoped that he'd go back to him or her now. Much as he wasn't a fan of shrinks, he'd seen enough to know that some of them could have their uses. Besides, if this one had managed to gain Don's trust, then he couldn't be one of those idiots who blathered on about Freud and mommy or daddy issues and all that other nonsense.

"Have they found my badge yet?" Don asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry, I meant to tell you right away. They found it among Frazer's stuff."

"Trophy. He wanted it as a Goddamned trophy!"

"Probably. I wanted to bring it back to you, but they need to process it further first."

"Great."

"At least it was found."

"Yeah. Look, Billy, I need to ask you a favor."

Uh, oh. Billy recognized _that_ tone of voice. Not to mention Don's whole attitude and posture just now. It was a blend of nervousness, fear and determination all mixed with that Eppes stubbornness he alternatively cursed or admired. While he'd been thankful for it just recently, he had the feeling he was gonna start cursing it real soon.

"What?"

"Hey, whatever happened to 'sure, anything'?"

"It flew right out the window when you adopted the tone that tells me I'm not gonna like what you say next."

"What kind of friendship is that?"

"Donny."

Don sighed. "Fine. I want your knife."

"My knife?"

"Yeah."

Billy simply stared at Don in shock, unable to believe what he was hearing. The image of the younger man's reaction when he'd first opened the blade in the basement flashed before his eyes. It was too weak to be called a flinch, he hadn't had enough strength left for that, yet he'd still reacted, the response, the fear and expectation, so ingrained as to be instinctive even when in the hands of someone he knew would never hurt him.

"Don, I-"

"Please."

It was the closest Billy had ever heard his former partner come to a plea and he had to close his eyes. He had another flash of Don as he'd been in the basement, covered in blood and cuts, his whole body reacting in fear to his blade.

"Why?" Billy questioned, uncomprehendingly. "Why on Earth would you want it?"

"You saw how I reacted to your knife before."

"Yes, exactly."

"I can't live like that, Billy, being afraid of every single knife; reacting like that to everything which could break my skin, whether it's a knife, scissors or a damn needle. I-"

"Don, it's a perfectly normal reaction after what you went through. Frazer tortured you for God's sake. I saw the marks, remember, and I read the transcript of your statement. What Frazer did and said, what you knew was coming, it would be abnormal for you not to have developed an automatic reaction to knives, even if you hadn't been stabbed before all of this happened."

"Regardless, I... can't live like this. I can't work like this. You know that's true, Billy. If I don't get over this, my career with the Bureau is over."

The fact that he'd still be able to hold a position at the Bureau other than a field agent wouldn't be any consolation to Don, so Billy didn't mention it. He looked away from his friend as he tried to imagine how he'd feel if their positions were reversed. Fugitive Recovery was everything to him and he couldn't imagine doing anything else. If a subconscious reaction threatened that, he'd do everything in his power to overcome it. Everything.

With a nod, Billy looked back at Don, carefully watching his reactions as he pulled out his knife. Although the other man had known what he was doing, Don flinched when he caught sight of the weapon. Billy simply held the polished wooden handle and kept his eyes on the younger man, waiting for the tense muscles to relax somewhat and Don to pull his eyes off the knife. When he finally did so and Billy could see that Don was aware of his surroundings, he slowly spun the knife around so the end where the blade came out was in his palm, before he extended his arm towards his friend.

Don swallowed hard before reaching out with a heavily bandaged and trembling hand for the knife. When his fingers closed around the hilt, Billy closed his own fingers around his former partner's hand.

"Coop?"

"We're gonna take this one step at a time or you're only gonna make things worse."

"Thanks."

"Any time."

When Don had relaxed as far as Billy thought he would given the circumstances, he gently pushed down on Don's thumb which covered the releasing mechanism for the blade. Despite being the one who held the knife and having control over the blade mechanism, Don's muscles jumped and tensed instantly.

"It's not gonna hurt you, not this time."

"I know," Don breathed after a few moments. "I just..."

"Think of it as Frazer's knife. Now think of what you did when Keane was shooting at you."

"My life was in danger."

"Yes, but you were able to overcome the fear then. That means you can do it."

"I didn't think of it then, I just reacted," Don stated, breath hitching as Billy released his hand.

Don simply looked at the blade for a moment, as if working up his courage. Billy kept a close eye on him, ready to grab the knife if it looked like Don was pushing himself too far. Slowly, Don rotated his wrist, looking at the blade from various angles before he pulled his arm closer to himself. Billy didn't dare say anything as he watched Don struggle with the emotions and memories that were still far too close to the surface for him to be doing this. The knowledge of how closely his former partner normally guarded his privacy made Billy feel privileged that Don trusted him enough to ask this of him and to allow him to witness this vulnerability.

"Maybe that's enough for now," Billy suggested when Don brought his left hand up towards the blade.

"No," Don stated simply.

Billy fought off the impulse to grab the knife away from him as Don traced his one good finger along the flat edge of the blade. The knowledge that such a sudden movement would only startle Don and could potentially hurt him, especially if he cut himself, forced down the desire. He also didn't want to think of what it would do to Don's psyche if he made such an unexpected gesture with the knife as pulling it away would undoubtedly be. Given Don's current state of mind, the fact that the knife was being whipped away from him instead of towards him probably wouldn't make any difference. All Don would see was the sudden, fast movement of the blade, suddenly beyond his control, and that would be enough.

The moment stretched as Don kept his finger on the blade, as if unable to pull it away now that he was touching it. Then, before Billy could say anything else, Alan's angry and shocked voice cut through the air.

"What the hell is going on here?"

**

* * *

**

**Well, here we go, the final cliffy of this fic.  
As for Don with the knife here, well, I _did_ say he was gonna pull some macho crap regarding his new found phobia of sharp things. Besides, with Billy there, how was I to resist letting Don be Don?  
Yes, there will be a hell of a blow out between Alan and Billy in the next chapter about this. And poor Don won't come out of it too easily either. His finger is on the blade here when his father startles him...  
I hope you liked some of the backstory for Blakely given here. I've got a lot more in my head, but the Bureau can't know all of it or he'd be behind bars already.**


End file.
